All or Nothing
by Ms Orton
Summary: Sometimes grief brings people together, and sometimes it drives them apart. Sequel to 'Timing'. Post series finale/AU.
1. Chapter 1

_So you lovely people have spoken and here we have the sequel to 'Timing'. If you haven't read that fic it probably is a good idea to do so before you start here, but just to recap briefly: House didn't marry his Green Card bride and the car crash never happened. Instead Wilson locked House and Cuddy in his office, they broke out, they had sex and decided to behave like adults- sort of._

_Time jump, folks!_

_In my head the sub-title for this chapter is 'Denial ain't just a river in Egypt'._

_I don't own these characters. I do however find myself wanting to bang their imaginary heads together._

* * *

As ever the car had only just warmed up by the time Cuddy turned down her street. A cold snap in October was hardly unusual for New Jersey, but nevertheless the last week had been particularly bitter. Stifling a shiver, she pulled into her driveway and frowned when she caught sight of the dark figure slumped on her doorstep, proportionate amounts of fear and relief filtering through her. Getting out of the car, she swiftly grabbed her bag of groceries from the back seat and stalked up the path to investigate further, her suspicions confirmed when she stood in front of her door.

"House?" Motionlessly he continued to stare at the step, his head craned forward so she couldn't see his face and didn't respond. "House?"

"Where's Rachel?" His voice was little more than a mumble that she had to strain to hear against the wind shaking the trees.

"It's her cousin's birthday. They're having a sleepover…" Nervously she shifted on the spot, and gulped. She'd thought about what she was going to say to him if/when he came back, and now nothing particularly articulate was on the tip of her tongue. Her brain was as frozen as the rest of her body. "I haven't heard from you since before… I was thinking about reporting you missing."

"You should know by now I always turn up eventually," he said squarely, lifting his head to look at her under the porch light, and revealing the purple bruise that circled his eye.

"What the hell happened to your face?"

"I fell on somebody's fist. Kind of unfortunate… You gonna let me in, or do I have to keep on freezing my ass off out here?"

Cuddy nodded and held out her hand to help him up, pulling against his weight as he slowly inched his way up to his feet. Seeing him tentatively grasp the handles of his bag, she got the key from her pocket and opened the door, hanging her coat in the hall and then switching on all the lights as she walked through her home and made her way into the kitchen. Behind her, House dropped his bag at the first opportunity and clasped at pieces of furniture to get by, the familiar sound of his cane hitting the wooden floor absent.

Placing her groceries on the counter, she started to unload the contents, putting milk and orange juice in the fridge and other items in the cupboards.

"Where's your cane?"

"I lost it." It was a lie.

"Where?"

"No idea." Another lie.

"How have you managed to get around?"

"Hovercraft," he cracked back, walking up behind her and planting his hands either side of her on the counter as she continued to empty the contents of the grocery bag. Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, she ignored the move and continued lining up the various jars and packets on the top. Instead he moved closer and pressed his hips against hers, no longer leaving his intentions with any room for interpretation.

"I missed you."

Bending down he let his breath tickle over the back of her neck briefly, secretly pleased she'd tied her hair back so he had full access to the creamy flesh there. Lightly his lips grazed over her skin, the scent of her perfume triggering hundreds of happy memories, as she unconsciously shivered against him.

"House," she warned, not entirely convincingly.

"I need to feel good again." He paused and let his nose run over the back of her ear, before whispering into it. "You always make me feel good."

Again he kissed her, this time his hands slipping onto her hips and gripping her possessively as momentarily he felt her sink into him and comply. Then something appeared to change her mind, a sharp intake of breath signalling a new stiffness in her demeanour.

"No."

"I can make you feel good too," he persisted, his fingers snaking higher up her torso.

"I said no, House!" Emphatically she gripped his wrists and put them back down by his own side, swiftly spinning around to regard him angrily. "If you want a distraction go and screw a hooker. I'm not here for you to use when you feel like it!"

Genuinely taken aback that he could get it so wrong, he craned his head back and took a long, deep breath, inwardly wishing the Earth would swallow him up. He felt like an asshole. An even bigger asshole than usual.

"Coming back here was a mistake."

Without waiting for her to answer he turned to go, but flinched noticeably when Cuddy reached out and put a hand on his side to stop him. Horrified that such a relatively light touch could provoke such a reaction, she instantly recoiled. Something was badly wrong.

"You're hurt."

He shrugged.

"It's nothing."

"Let me see."

"First you won't sleep with me, and now you want me to undress. I'm getting mixed signals here, Cuddy."

"Shut up and let me see," she insisted, not about to fall prey to another one of his deflections.

Reluctantly he removed his jacket and then slowly eased his t-shirt over his head, before throwing them on the side and making a show of presenting himself to her, his brazen attitude a cover for the embarrassment he felt. He watched her eyes examine the numerous black, yellow and purple bruises, her shock plain to see and all he wanted to do was disappear. Anything if it meant he wouldn't be pitied a matter of minutes after he'd made a play for her, but such was the ritual humiliation of his life.

"We need to get you checked out at the hospital… You could have broken ribs or worse."

"I'm fine!"

"Yeah, you look fine!" she spat back sarcastically, her line of vision falling to the clear outline of a boot on his side as if he'd been stomped on. Instinctively her hand flew up to her mouth. She felt nauseous at the thought of somebody wilfully attacking him like that. Nauseous and angry. "Who did this to you?"

"Why? You going to beat them up for me?" Realising she wasn't sharing the joke, awkwardly he grabbed his shirt and pulled it back over his head. "Couple of knuckleheads weren't happy I implied they were together… Kind of had it coming." Casting his mind back to the day before, he saw the blows raining down on him over and over again as they scuffled in the alleyway outside the bar he'd been drinking in in Pensylvania, a strange sense of relief falling over him as her eventually he drifted out of consciousness. When he came to, he was cold, alone and caneless. Eventually he summoned the energy to get up, hobbled to the car and drove, several hours later finding himself pulling up in Cuddy's neighbourhood.

Worry still etched across her face, his ex girlfriend edged past him.

"I'm calling the Police."

"No!" he insisted, clasping her hand and pulling her back towards him. "No Police… If you call them, I'm leaving." It was bad enough he'd suffered the humiliation of having the crap kicked out of him without having to suffer the indignity of reliving it by making a statement.

"They could have killed you!"

"So what if they had?" he answered bluntly, looking on as Cuddy's jaw immediately dropped in disbelief. "I was hurting, whiskey wasn't helping and I promised Wilson I wouldn't go back on the Vicodin… I opted for a different kind of pain. Maybe Oblivion, who knows?"

Sensing tears prick at the corners of her eyes, she gripped his fingers tighter, attempting to give herself something else to focus on so they wouldn't fall. What if they had beaten him to death? What if the first she'd heard of it was a phone call from his Mom, or on a bulletin on the news? Once more her stomach turned over.

"You could have called me."

"And said what? 'Oh hi, Cuddy! In case you're interested, I just watched my best friend die.'"

Irritated by his flippancy, she stepped away from him and leant against the counter.

"He was my friend too, House. I've lost him as well… I was starting to think I'd lost you."

"And I'm supposed to believe that losing me as a friend would have been such a great loss to you?... How exactly does our _friendship _benefit you, Cuddy? I mean I know I'm not a bad lay for a cripple, but seen as we haven't slept together for over two years that's pretty irrelevant…" Barely letting up to take breath, he ploughed on further. "Maybe it's all the jokes I make about your ass that makes our _friendship _so worthwhile to you, or all the times I told you that you were a bad Mother, or a bad Doctor that left you with such a warm, fuzzy feeling inside."

With her tongue tucked firmly in her cheek, Cuddy nodded knowingly.

"I know exactly what you're doing, and I'm not going to have a fight with you, House… You're allowed to be angry, to feel upset, but stop pushing me away."

Defiantly, he scoffed.

"For the record, Shrink Cuddy just got rid of the remains of my hard on. In fact I think my balls retreated back to where they came from."

Ignoring his crudeness, she fixed her gaze on him and spoke softly and sincerely.

"I missed you too."

For several moments they stood in silence, him avoiding eye contact with her, whilst she gave him the mental space to collect his thoughts. When he'd told her he'd missed her ten minutes earlier, he'd meant it. It wasn't just a rouse to get her into bed, he'd felt her absence all too often when he'd been away. Hearing her acknowledge that she knew he meant what he'd said and for her to express the same sentiment was doubly important to him. In instances like these she had a knack for seeing right through him, and cutting through the crap.

"I need somewhere to stay overnight… If you want me to go I should leave now and find a hotel."

"You can stay as long as you need to. Take the bed tonight and I'll sleep in Rachel's room."

"We could share," he said quietly, the hint of a mischievous grin curling the corner of his mouth lopsidedly.

"That's not a good idea. For either of our sakes."

This time he smirked openly, but decided not to push his luck by pursuing it any further. That she'd acknowledged there was still an attraction there was enough.

"Can I take a bath?"

"Sure, go ahead," she agreed. "I'll bring you some fresh towels in a minute."

As he headed off, she finished putting her groceries away and then went to the laundry room to fetch some towels, before pacing through the Master bedroom. Seeing the door to the bathroom slightly ajar and hearing water running, she assumed he was waiting for her and stepped into the room just as his shorts hit the floor. For a split second everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Her eyes fell to the newly exposed region of his body appreciatively, then internally condemning her behaviour she looked up and saw the amusement on his face. Mortified, she span on her heel and felt her cheeks glow crimson.

"You should have taken a picture. It would have lasted longer," he teased, making her roll her eyes. Of course he would be enjoying this. "It's doing my ego a whole lot of good knowing I can still make you blush."

Unable to stop herself from smiling, Cuddy hung the towels over the side of the sink.

"I'll leave you to it."

"Actually I could do with a hand," he retorted. Surprised by the request, she looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow, expecting a crude remark. Instead he gestured down at his hands that were now covering his manhood and looked back at her. "See, I'm preserving your innocence. Now can you help me get in?"

Without hesitation she turned and helped him slowly lower himself into the bubbly water, empathically sensing his pain each time he winced or grimaced, and made a mental note to force him to go to the hospital if his condition worsened.

"Ok?"

"Thanks." Realising she was about to depart he quickly grabbed her wrist with his damp fingers and saw the look of concern on her face. Ever since Wilson had died he'd embraced the solitude, the time to contemplate his world more or less falling off axis, but right now he was craving company, more specifically her company. "Stay… Please."

Briefly pondering his request, she soon flipped the lid on the toilet and sat down. For a long time neither of them said anything, both instead taking their time to process the situation they'd found themselves in.

"What was the funeral like?" he inquired eventually, his eyes locked on his toes, which were artfully turning off the faucet.

"It was nice. As nice as those things can be…" She paused to remember the rows and rows of full seats at the synagogue, and the smiling picture of their friend that had greeted attendees. He'd touched so many people's lives over the course of his career; he'd deserved to be held in such high regard. In spite of the injustice of his illness, she'd clung to that outpouring of affection for someone who'd been a huge part of her life since House had more or less blackmailed her into hiring him at PPTH all those years before. He'd been a companion, a confidant and often a shoulder to cry on.

"His Mom and Dad asked about you," she continued. "They told me you called them a few days before the end. Asked them to make their way there, because he didn't have long… I know you hardly left his side for days…"

"I should have spotted it earlier," he interrupted.

"We've been through this before, House. Pancreatic cancer is notoriously hard to spot until it's too late. It wasn't your fault."

His eyes darting around the room erratically, he began to chew his lip.

"I couldn't make it to the funeral though... What kind of asshole doesn't have the balls to go to his best friend's funeral?"

Searchingly he regarded her, his face creased as if he had a huge weight on his shoulders. She knew exactly why he hadn't gone. She hadn't wanted to either. Hearing people talk about their friend in the past tense and seeing them lower his casket into the ground made it all real. As she'd stood amongst his close relatives and friends, she'd known House was out there somewhere trying to convince himself it wasn't, hoping against hope that he hadn't resorted to desperate measures to quell the white hot pain of the truth like he had when he'd found out about her tumour.

"You were there when it mattered. He wasn't alone."

"I nearly walked away so many times."

"But you didn't."

"And now I'm on my own," he croaked, his stuttered words evidence of just how close he was to breaking down.

"You're not on your own. You've got me."

His mouth opened to enable a response that never came and then closed again in quick succession. Suddenly feeling a plethora of emotions boiling inside him, he turned away from her and glared at the tiles on the wall suppressing the urge to punch them. Instead a stray tear trickled down his cheek and dripped into the water, all the while his Father's voice mocking him for crying like a girl. He felt pathetic. First he'd hit on her completely inappropriately, then she'd seen his battered and bruised body, and now he was on the verge of blubbing like a baby who'd had their candy stolen in front of her. The half idea he'd entertained of coming back and sweeping her off her feet hadn't exactly gone to plan.

Seeing his inner struggle, Cuddy crouched down next to the bath and gently ran the backs of her fingers along his forehead, hoping against hope that he wouldn't bottle this up like he usually did.

"What you did for him was so brave, House."

"Then why do I feel like a fucking coward?" he barked back. "He didn't deserve this. Why couldn't it have been my sorry ass that was doubled up in pain? Why isn't it me lying in the ground now?"

Angrily his hands clenched into fists under the water, his nails digging into his palms painfully as his shoulders begin to shake uncontrollably and within seconds his entire body was wracked in sobs. Instinctively Cuddy pulled him towards her, unperturbed that her clothes were getting soaked as he circled his sodden arms around her and his head burrowed into her neck.

With her own tears flowing freely, she tried to push the guilt that was pricking her to the back of her mind; the kind of guilt stoked by the relief that it was him in her bath right now, holding onto her tightly.

"You didn't deserve it either."

* * *

Groggily House opened his eyes and squinted at the clock next to the bed. It was a little after one in the afternoon, which meant he'd slept more than thirteen hours. Somewhere at the back of his mind he recalled briefly rousing when he heard the front door close and realised he was probably alone in the house, musing that Cuddy had probably been called into the hospital and had left him to sleep. It was hardly unusual for her to be forced to go into work on a Saturday. In fact on numerous occasions he'd been the reason she'd had to drop her plans and go in.

Sluggishly he sat up and pulled himself to the side of the bed, the intense pain all over his body making him feel as if he'd been hit by a truck. In years gone by he'd have reached for his Vicodin bottle without giving it a second thought. Now he didn't have that crutch to get him through, and he longed for her to come back quickly so his mind could be preoccupied by something else.

Scouting for a distraction, he looked around the room and accustomised himself to his surroundings again. He hadn't been in Cuddy's bedroom for over two years, in fact he'd barely been in her home at all since the night they'd come to an 'understanding'. He'd gone to Mayfield, got clean again and then he'd more or less slipped back into his old routine, solving cases, playing pranks on Wilson and teasing his team.

And then there was the relationship with boss and ex-girlfriend. Superficially everything went back to how had been before they'd gotten together. He fought for her approval for signatures, they threw barbs at each other like they always had, and yet the ground had permanently shifted between them. How, he couldn't put his finger on it exactly, but nevertheless things were different. They were neither close, nor distant and yet they were constantly aware of one another, both garnering details about the other's personal life from Wilson, who sporadically threw his hands in the air in exasperation and demanded they got back together. Each time they shot him down. Being 'friends' was safe. Being 'friends' meant they had a buffer between them that allowed them to take a step back. Being 'friends' meant they couldn't get hurt again.

And then everything had turned upside, down.

He could still remember walking into her office to triumphantly boast about solving a case when he saw the smudged mascara around her eyes, as Wilson sat in the chair opposite her and looked on gravely. Feeling a creeping sense of dread, his immediate response was to turn on his heel and attempt to leave again, but the oncologist had told him to sit down and for once he'd done as he was bidded to do. Then he'd been told, the words hardly registering. Wilson had Stage III pancreatic cancer. The diabetes he'd picked up on a few months earlier after bouts of tiredness was a symptom, rather than the root cause of his illness, and after keeping this information to himself for nearly a week, he'd decided he wasn't going to accept any other treatment than pain relief. House vividly recalled the argument that ensued, the accusations of selfishness that were bandied from one man to the other as Cuddy tried in vain to calm them down, and finally resorted to asking her Head of Oncology to go home while she talked to his best friend.

He'd expected her to be on Wilson's side, but she wasn't. She too couldn't see the sense of reducing his prognosis to a matter of months when chemo and drug treatment could add a significant amount of time to his life span, and so they'd resolved to talk to him again. Over the course of the next few days they'd both tried to change his mind, sometimes together, sometimes separately until finally he'd exploded and told his best friend categorically that he had no intention of spending whatever time he had left hooked up to a drip and lying in a hospital bed waiting to die. Whilst he still had breath in his lungs he was going to do things he'd never done before, and see things he'd never given himself chance to see while that was still a possibility. Whether he had his approval or not was irrelevant. The following day House gave up his apartment, Wilson bought a sports car and they both handed in their notice to a shocked Cuddy, who now found herself trying to talk two people out of what she saw as reckless behaviour. Resolutely they stood their ground and eventually she'd relented, waving them off on the understanding they'd keep her updated.

Initially things had been great. The former oncologist's predicament left him seemingly fearless, and so they found themselves in various situations which seemed incongruous with the man whose previous idea of adventure had been staying in with his cat and a bottle of sauvignon blanc. Amongst other things they saw Niagara Falls from a helicopter, played poker in Las Vegas and narrowly avoided arrest after jointly mooning the White House when they'd sunk nearly a full bottle of whiskey between them. Roughly three months into their trip things suddenly took a turn for the worse. One morning Wilson couldn't summon the energy to get out of bed, the pain so intense House had woken up to find him in the foetal position, beads of perspiration covering his entire body as he rocked back and forth. That was when they realised the adventure was over, and he needed to find his friend palliative care as soon as possible, a private room overlooking a garden in a small hospice in San Diego providing the backdrop for the last few weeks of his life.

Blinking away the memory, House slipped out of bed and got to his feet, bracing himself against the ache all over his body as he pulled himself up. For old time's sake he felt compelled to look in Cuddy's top drawer and grinned broadly at the assorted thongs and panties, before responding to the rumblings in his stomach and heading to the kitchen to find something to eat. Minutes later he was settling down on the sofa and tucking into a bowl of cereal when the phone rang next to him. Reluctant to answer it and get stuck in an awkward conversation with Julia, or worse still, Arlene, he heard Cuddy's voice telling the caller to leave a message, then, to his surprise, he heard a man clear his throat.

"Hi Lisa, it's Alex… We met at Julia's a few weeks ago, and I finally worked up the courage to ask her for your number." He paused momentarily and coughed again nervously, his hesitancy making House's lip curl into a mocking snarl as he listened in. "I really enjoyed talking to you and I wondered if you'd like to come out for a drink with me sometime soon…. Anyway if that's something you'd like just give me a call back on this number."

And with that House heard the click of the call ending at the other end. Instantly his appetite had gone, and all too familiar sensation stabbed him in the gut: he was jealous. Jealous _and _angry. While he'd been tending to Wilson, she'd been flirting with somebody else. Someone who her sister had approved of enough to give him her number, which no doubt meant this guy was everything he wasn't: handsome, dependable, polite and, by the sound of his voice, younger too. He'd always anticipated this would happen eventually, that someone else would come along and divert her attention from him once and for all. Nevertheless, now the possibility had come a step closer to reality, he didn't feel ready.

Setting his half empty bowl down on the coffee table, he reached out and grabbed the phone, soon finding the message and letting his finger hover over the delete button indecisively.

* * *

A couple of hours later the front door opened and House heard a young girl chattering away to Cuddy about how she wanted a new bike, her Mom responding in kind by giving her numerous reasons why she didn't need another one. Before they rounded the corner she reminded her daughter that they had a guest and was apparently instructing her to do something, which was followed by the pitter-patter of small feet on the living room floor as Rachel ran into the room and eyeballed the man sat on their sofa, her forehead creasing into a curious frown as she held out a hospital issue cane.

Not quite knowing how to react, House half smiled and reached out to grab it just as the little girl pulled it back and grinned playfully. In spite of himself he chuckled and took the opportunity to look her over properly. He'd barely seen her since the break-up. Just glimpses here and there on days he'd been forced to go to knock on her Mom's door to argue with her over a procedure she was refusing to approve. Unsurprisingly she was taller, her hair was longer and tied into bunches, but other than that she was just the same, her blue eyes permeated with the same look of mischief he couldn't help but reminisce over from time to time.

"You know your Mom likes to play hide the cane too."

"Rachel, stop being rude and hand it over," Cuddy cautioned as she walked into the room, her arms folded across herself as if she meant business. Reluctantly the five year old passed it over and regarded him sheepishly, her Mom turning her attention to their guest too. "And you can behave yourself too."

Smirking conspiratorially, House caught Rachel's eye and raised an eyebrow.

"I guess we're both in trouble, kid."

Again the little girl regarded him, her brow furrowing as she examined his face and her mouth about to verbalize her thoughts when Cuddy moved next to her and gently squeezed her shoulder.

"Sweetie, Mommy needs to talk to House for a few minutes. Can you go and play in your room for a little while?"

Obviously troubled by the suggestion, she seemed about to object when something changed her mind and she nodded in acquiescence, her feet propelling her out of the room at such a speed that both adults felt jealous. After watching her leave Cuddy perched on the arm of the sofa next to him.

"Sorry I had to go out. There was a mix up at work and then I had to pick up Rachel."

"It's fine," House answered unexpectedly coldly. "I managed to avoid all the sharp objects."

Gauging a rapid change in atmosphere since her daughter had left the room, she looked down and saw him squirming in his seat, the mirth at Rachel's antics a minute or two earlier all but gone.

"Everything ok?"

"Peachy… You had a call while you were out. Some guy called Alex."

Involuntarily her eyes bulged wide open in surprise and recognition.

She'd met Alex at a barbeque at Julia's a couple of weeks earlier and they'd talked for most of the evening. He was a partner at a graphic design firm, who just happened to be tall, handsome, funny and for once didn't bore her to tears like all the other men her sister tried to set her up with. She hadn't expected anything to come of it. It had just been nice to have a conversation with someone, who wasn't five, related to her, or trying to ruin her day by messing something up.

"You spoke to him?" she queried cautiously. There was nothing really to hide, or even a good reason to hide it, but nevertheless this was House she was talking to and the situation was hardly ideal. Your ex listening in as somebody asked you out for a date was hardly ideal.

Thankfully he shook his head.

"He left a message… He likes you and wants to go out on a date."

For a second Cuddy could've sworn she saw a mixture of hurt and accusation in his eyes, before the indifference returned. Feeling a gnawing sense of guilt, she looked away.

"It's no big deal. I doubt I'll bother."

"If it's no big deal go for a drink with him," House pushed matter of factly, his proposal making her eyes dart up from the ground to scrutinize him. "You haven't dated anybody since me. Why wouldn't you want to go out with him?... Serial killer vibes? Hideous facial disfigurement?"

"He's fine, House… This is just a bad time."

"Because of Wilson, or because I'm here?" Seeing her reluctant to answer, he went on. "Me getting hands on last night was because I was upset and tired. It was a mistake… We're just friends and you're a free agent."

"And you'd really be ok with this?" Cuddy retorted in disbelief.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Maybe because you've spent almost a decade sabotaging practically every date I've been on. I think I have good reason to be sceptical."

He shrugged casually.

"Things are different now… We tried the couple thing and it was a disaster. Doesn't mean you have to convert to Catholicism and join a convent… Call him back."

"I'll think about it," she said quietly, still thrown by his reaction to it all. It was so out of character for him to be this reasonable that she couldn't help but think he had some sort of agenda. House always had an agenda.

"It's your decision," he answered nonchalantly, hauling himself up to his feet and standing squarely in front of her, his expression giving nothing away. "Life's too short to mess around, Cuddy. If you like him, go for a drink with him. If you don't, don't… If it was me, I wouldn't think twice."

Not waiting for her to respond, he started to walk away, his body leaning worringly heavily on the new cane she'd brought him from the hospital.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm still tired," he called back without turning. "Gonna lie down."

Completely baffled, Cuddy slipped onto the seat of the sofa and stared at the half eaten bowl of cereal on the coffee table, the door to the master bedroom closing in the background as she tucked her feet under herself.

Last night a big part of her had wanted to give in to him. She'd missed him so much, and she was hurting too. The easiest thing in the world would have been to kiss him back, to let him lead her to the bedroom and forget the complications them sleeping together would bring with it, all in favour of fleeting familiarity and comfort. But perhaps House was right. They had been a disaster together, and at some point she would have to at least try and dip her toe in the water again, especially as he'd just given her his blessing.

Maybe this was an opportunity for her to move on once and for all.

* * *

_I do feel a bit bad for killing off Wilson here, but I did want to keep some elements of what happened on the show in tact. At least I decided to give him a more plausibly deadly type of cancer. Sadly the oncologist still died of a horrible bout of irony. :/ My apologies. _


	2. Chapter 2

_My apologies for taking so long to post this chapter. Easter and life in general got in the way._

_As always you guys have been great. Big thanks to everybody who read, favourited and alerted this story over the last week, and special thanks to those of you who took the time to write a review. I love reading what you have to say, so keep 'em coming! _

_Shore owns them. I'm just staging an imaginary coup._

* * *

It was the wardrobe door slamming shut that woke House up the next day, the unexpected noise stirring him from a rather bizarre dream that took place on a beautiful beach with white sand, a crystal clear ocean and a small sailing boat that followed him however far he walked along the stretch like a strangely sinister, inanimate stalker. Flipping onto his back and sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and blinked at the culprit of his rude awakening, as a petrified Rachel pressed her back against the wardrobe doors and looked like a rabbit caught in the headlamps.

"I'm not supposed to be in here," the little girl gulped.

"Then why are you?" Guiltily she looked down at the pair of three inch heels she'd slipped onto her tiny feet and then back up at him, the worry that she was about to be told off manifesting itself in the way she was chewing her lip nervously. Rolling his eyes, House smiled to reassure her. "Relax! I'm no snitch!... And besides if somebody went running to your Mom about me every time I touched something of hers, let's just say, there aren't enough doctors in the World to do all the clinic hours she'd have made me do."

A little baffled by the statement the five year old frowned and stepped out of the shoes, before halving the distance between her and the bed.

"Do you work for my Mom?"

"Used to."

She paused to look down at the floor as if she was trying to remember something, then suddenly looked up as if a light bulb had turned on in her mind. The cane, the limp, and an image of sitting cross-legged next to a tall man with a scratchy beard all served to jog her memory.

"You used to be here when I was little."

"You're not that much bigger…" Seeing the indignation on her face, he didn't finish the sentence. Instead he took a deep breath. "I used to be your Mom's boyfriend. Then she saw sense. All a long time ago now."

"We watched cartoons," Rachel responded matter-of-factly, smiling smugly as if she was unfeasibly proud she'd remembered.

Surprised that she had, House responded in kind. Somehow it made him feel better to know that she had some recollection of him. As much as he'd resolved himself to not being a part of her life, he couldn't help but think about her and her easy acceptance of him when he and Cuddy had dated from time to time. As much as he protested to the contrary to practically anybody who would listen, on the whole, he liked kids. They were less prone to spouting the bullshit their older counterparts did.

"Yeah."

Satisfied that she knew who he was, Rachel closed the gap between them and hauled herself to sit on the edge of the bed next to him, her gaze straight away lingering over the fading bruise next to his eye.

"What happened to your face?"

"I walked into something," he lied, instantly grateful that he'd worn a t-shirt to bed so she couldn't see the other bruises. There was little need for him to tell a five year old that he'd been beaten black and blue. Furthermore what would she think of him if she knew the truth? Why that bothered him so much he wasn't sure, but it definitely did. "Would have helped if I opened my eyes, huh?"

"No kidding!" she chimed back, the perfect approximation of her Mother's intonation making him chuckle to himself. Biologically she might not be hers, but there was no mistaking she was Cuddy's daughter.

Watching her swing her legs and stare into the middle distance as if she was deep in thought, he knew something else was on her mind and didn't have to wait long for her to verbalize it.

"Mom says you're sad because you lost Wilson…" Tentatively she slipped her hand over his and patted it like he supposed she would a dog or a cat. If an adult had done it, it would have seemed patronising, but coming from her it was oddly consoling and sincere. "Where did you lose him? I can help you look."

As her big blue eyes stared into his innocently, he honestly didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"I didn't lose him," he said as evenly as he could manage. "He was sick and then he died."

For a moment or two she processed what he'd said in silence, her head hanging low and making House worry for a second that he'd brought her to tears. She wasn't crying though, she was trying to make sense of it.

"What happens when you die?"

"What do you think happens?" House answered cautiously. The last thing he wanted to do was step on Cuddy's toes with regards to whatever religious beliefs she was feeding her daughter. He wasn't in the mood for a shouting match right now.

"Grandma says you go somewhere. Somewhere nicer… Is that what you think?"

He shook his head slowly.

"No… I think you just stop being around anymore."

Again Rachel took pause for thought, her brow furrowing in the process. He could almost see the steam coming from her ears as the cogs turned in her head.

"But you're allowed to remember the person who died?" Gently she tapped her temple with two fingers. "Up here?"

"Yeah… I mean until you get dementia, in which case you probably won't remember who you are and then it won't matter anyway."

Not really understanding what he was talking about, Rachel sighed.

"Wilson gave me the giant duck I have in my room when I was a baby… It used to give me bad dreams."

Vaguely he remembered Cuddy being forced to briefly move the soft toy into the loft when Rachel had a series of recurring nightmares where a yellow, quacking monster chased her around the park, shortly before her third birthday. With difficulty, House suppressed a smirk. The thought of Wilson unintentionally traumatising a toddler was pretty funny. He'd have been mortified had he known.

"He bought me practically every lunch I had since the millennium. Sometimes I got indigestion. Them's the breaks, kid!"

Her mouth lifting upwards into a broad smile, the little girl hopped off the bed and stood next to him, her good humour proving infectious to him.

"You getting up, or are you going to lay in bed all day, lazy bones?"

Expectantly she held out her small hand for him to take, his own soon enveloping it as he kicked off the covers and allowed her to drag him out of the room.

"And I thought your Mom was a slave driver."

* * *

Hearing Rachel and House chatting conspiratorially in the kitchen, Cuddy followed the noise and stood in the doorway, looking on unnoticed as he instructed Rachel to crack an egg in the bowl and patiently proceeded to pick out bits of shell when she was a little too heavy-handed.

She knew he could cook, probably better than she could if he actually put his mind to it, but the number of times he'd actually prepared a meal for her and/or Rachel in the months they'd been together was easily countable on the fingers of one hand. For him, it was a matter of principle. The smaller the amount of energy he had to exert to get by, the better, and he'd lie and make excuses to achieve just that. Additionally, he'd hardly ever wilfully included her daughter in whatever tasks he deigned suitable for his attention. On the occasions she'd followed him around the house as a two and three year old, the general impression she'd got was that he was tolerating her daughter for her sake. He'd admitted as much the night she'd brought him back to the house and they'd agreed to be friends, but then he'd also admitted an attachment. In the early days after the break up and his return from his second trip to Mayfield, she'd mention Rachel conversationally at work and he'd always feign disinterest, his curt words of apathy belying a wish to remain ignorant. Eventually she'd stopped talking about her in front of him altogether. It felt unnecessarily cruel as they attempted to claw back some sense of normality.

Now, as he gently coaxed her daughter to stir the mixture more slowly and kept one hand on the small of her back so she wouldn't fall off the stool she was standing on, the ease of their interaction was plain to see. The look on his face as Rachel babbled on at him about one of her friends at school wasn't one of tolerance or disdain; he actually looked like he was interested, content to listen to her even.

Deciding to finally make her presence known, Cuddy cleared her throat.

"So who was playing with my shoes?"

Immediately she saw her daughter stiffen, guilt gluing her to the spot as the spoon fell from her hand and clattered against the bowl noisily. Noting her reaction, House turned and regarded Cuddy with mock seriousness.

"Well that was obviously me… I also tried on one of your bras. Feel free to send me to bed."

Trying in vain to hide her amusement, the Dean of Medicine's tongue stuck firmly in her cheek as he smirked at her. Cautiously Rachel tiptoed around on the stool and looked from one adult to the other, relief quickly registering on her face that House had allowed her to dodge a bullet. Balancing herself in her heightened position, she reached out and grabbed his forearm momentarily, a movement that didn't go unnoticed by her Mom.

"Aside from destroying the kitchen, what exactly are you two trying to do?" Cuddy breathed, folding her arms across her chest and observing the white, powdery streaks that covered their faces, clothes and much of the counter.

"We're making pancakes!" her daughter exclaimed, her hands happily clapping together as a cloud of flour rose up from them.

"Some of us had breakfast hours ago."

"We're having pancakes for lunch then," House clarified. "You want some?"

Unable to think of a good reason to say no, she nodded.

"Sure." Watching him twist himself back around towards the counter, she bided her time before she spoke again, the hesitance evident in her voice when the words finally did tumble out of her mouth. "House, I decided to take your advice. I've arranged to go out tonight…. If that's a problem, or…"

"No problem," he interrupted, casually sitting the pan on the stove and lighting the gas underneath it, all the while his back turned to her so frustratingly she was unable to gauge his response properly.

"Ok… I'll give Julia a call and see if she can have Rachel tonight."

"No need. I'll look after her."

"Really?" she asked, unable to hide her surprise. Spending a little bit of time with her in the kitchen was one thing, but actually offering to babysit was another entirely. The last time he'd done that she'd found out later that he'd allowed her to swallow a coin and was waiting for it to make its natural progression through her body. A small part of her couldn't help, but be suspicious.

Finally he turned and looked her square in the eye, no hint of hurt or annoyance appearing to plague him. In fact, she mused, he looked perfectly placid.

"What else am I going to do? I'll be bored. Keeping her entertained will be less boring..." He shrugged. "I guess I owe you a favour for letting me stay too."

"If I call my sister I'm sure she'd be happy to…"

"Ask Rachel what she wants to do," House retorted abruptly, picking up the bowl and returning to the stove to spoon the mix into the pan.

Glancing at her daughter, who had now sat down on the stool and was quietly listening to their conversation, Cuddy decided to heed his suggestion.

"Honey, do you want to go to Aunt Julia's tonight, or stay here with House?"

"I'll stay and look after House," the little girl responded without pause, her whole demeanour showing how at ease she was with the proposal. With his eyes fixed on the pan, the man in question's mouth ticked upwards into a small, triumphant smile.

"It'll be great. By the time you come back I'll have taught her to mix the perfect vodka martini."

"House!" Cuddy chastised.

At her predictability, his smile transformed into an out and out grin.

"We'll watch TV and eat takeout pizza… Maybe I'll try on your shoes again." Unsubtly he winked at her.

"Just as long as you stay out of my top drawer."

Glancing over his shoulder at her as he flipped the pancake over, his eyes glinted playfully.

"You honestly think I haven't already taken a look?"

"You are unbelievable!" she replied, rolling her eyes.

"That's not the first time you've said that…" he muttered back under his breath, the meaning of his sentence hardly ambiguous, to her at least.

Then their eyes locked, the humour evaporating into something altogether more serious. Seconds passed and his gaze still burned into hers, the intensity making butterflies flutter around in her stomach and everything else fade away around her myopically. He hadn't looked at her like that for a long time, and the effect was dizzying. For the months he'd been away everything had seemed a little greyer, a little more dull, and now with one look her heart was thundering in her chest and she couldn't possibly have felt more alive. Even if she'd wanted to kid herself that she didn't feel something for him anymore, it was all but impossible now.

Suddenly sensing another pair of eyes on her, Cuddy turned to her daughter and saw her frowning back at her inquisitively. Evidently the non-verbal exchange she'd just witnessed was like a riddle to her, one it would be easier if she didn't solve.

"I guess if we're going to eat I better set the table," she said chirpily, purposefully diverting everybody's attention onto something else and then grabbing the cutlery from the drawer, before swiftly heading into the dining room.

Dropping the knives and forks unceremoniously, she bent over the table and let the air filter into her lungs, suddenly aware that she'd held her breath until she'd left the kitchen. What had just happened unnerved her. Half an hour earlier she'd been on the phone with another man, a man who she was possibly about to embark on something new with. Something that wasn't complicated by a difficult and chequered, shared past.

With one look House had put that fresh start on shaky ground.

* * *

A little after ten Cuddy put her key in the door. Stepping into the hall, she immediately removed her heels and approached the second bedroom to check on Rachel. Silently pushing open the ajar door, she saw her daughter sprawled out in her bed and smiled at her adoringly as the little girl slept soundly, apparently without a care in the World. Eventually tiptoeing out of the room she inwardly scolded herself for thinking any real harm would come to her under House's supervision: he could be a reckless idiot sometimes, but not that much of an idiot.

Surprised that she hadn't heard him since she'd come home, she glanced into each room on her way back along the hall and eventually saw a pair of feet hanging over the end of the sofa when she entered the living room. Quietly rounding the piece of furniture, Cuddy skimmed over the array of crayons and drawings that adorned the coffee table, and then turned her attention back to him. With one hand tucked behind his head and the other resting protectively over his stomach, his head was turned towards the back of the sofa, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly ajar, as his chest rose up and down with even breaths.

Clearing the paper and crayons into a neat pile, she perched on the newly available space and stared at the sleeping form in front of her. Whatever she'd expected when she came back, it hadn't been this. She'd half anticipated for him to wait up for her like an over-protective parent and then to be interrogated over every minute detail of her date like he always had in the past. Perhaps even for him to be annoyed with her. Instead she was greeted with apparent indifference, his slumber an indicator that he was care-free enough to fall to asleep at a relatively early hour by his standards. And somehow that bothered her.

The truth was she'd enjoyed herself. Alex was everything he'd shown himself to be at Julia's the first time she'd met him; warm, kind, witty, handsome and successful. Conversation had flowed easily between them and he'd behaved like a gentleman throughout the date, even standing every time she left the table to go to the bathroom. He was exactly the type of guy she'd imagined herself with when she'd daydreamed about her future as an ambitious eighteen year old bound for college, and yet she'd lied to this model of perfection. When he'd asked who was looking after Rachel, she'd blatantly told him she'd asked Marina to come over and sit with her, the thought of him knowing that her ex was currently staying with her too much for her to deal with right now. Bringing her considerable baggage to the table this early would almost certainly scare him off she'd thought at the time.

But then House was more than just baggage. He was very much in her past, present and presumably her future.

Out of the corner of her eye she'd seen the expression on his face as she'd bent down to kiss Rachel goodbye, his gaze raking over her in the new dress she'd saved for a special occasion, and then the fleeting sadness as she'd told him to call her if anything went wrong. In that moment she knew if he'd asked her to stay, she'd have cancelled her date in a heartbeat. Instead he'd told her to enjoy herself and turned his focus back to the TV, not looking in her direction again until he watched her get into Alex's car through the window, the bile rising in his throat as she accepted a friendly kiss on the cheek.

For several minutes she sat mutely and continued to watch him as he slept, the realisation hitting her that she was trapped between where she was and where she could be, the promise of an easier existence with someone more dependable at her side scaring and consoling her in equal measure. In her mind two sides of the same argument were jostling. One that kept on replaying House's voice telling her he was "an insane choice for someone with a kid" the night he'd nearly ended their relationship before it began, as the other nagged at her with certainty that she was never going to feel the same way about anybody else as she did for him. Who else was capable of giving her goose bumps every time they entered the same room, even after twenty years of knowing each other? Essentially it was one form of self-preservation duelling with another. Once before she'd let her heart rule her head with regards to House, and it had ended badly. Perhaps things would have come to an even worse conclusion had Wilson not intervened. Now they had no-one to act as a mediator, nobody to take a step back and tell them where they were going wrong and that fact frightened her all the more.

Slowly rising to her feet, Cuddy pulled the throw from the back of the sofa and draped it over him, after she was done, letting her fingertips fall to his forehead and allowing herself the lightest of touches as she stifled the urge to lean down and let her lips replace them. Feeling the need to leave the room before she made a huge mistake, she turned on her heel and left the room, completely unaware of the half opened pair of eyes that followed her progression.


	3. Chapter 3

_Big thanks to everybody who's kept reading up to now, and to those of you who've taken the time to write reviews. It really is much appreciated._

_I know some of you are a little worried that this isn't a Huddy story. Don't be. :) Bit angsty at the end here though. Sorry. :/_

_I still don't own them._

* * *

Cuddy was striding down one of the corridors on the third floor at the hospital when her phone buzzed, an inconvenience that forced her to awkwardly shuffle the folders she'd just brought out of a meeting under her arm as she fumbled to pull it from her pocket. Seeing House's name on the display, she quickly unlocked the screen and read his message.

_I kind of burnt your house down… You'll have to come home._

She sighed and typed back.

_Even if that were true, what am I supposed to do?... Bring a bucket of water?_

Moments later he replied.

_You're right. I was lying… Actually Rachel's been kidnapped by an evil chimney sweep. You have to come and pay the ransom._

Confused as to why he'd be so desperate for her to come home, she leant against the wall and watched numerous people pass her by, the odd head nodding in her direction in recognition as she responded in kind to those who she knew. It was hardly unheard of for him to mess her around or play mind games with her, but there was usually a reason behind it. That said, she couldn't just drop everything and run after him when she had a hospital run, especially when he had just about everything he could possibly need back at her place. His probable boredom really wasn't a good enough excuse.

_Some of us have to work, House…_

Again his response was almost instantaneous.

_Please… It's important._

Against her better judgement, Cuddy felt herself relenting. For the rest of the afternoon she had little more than paperwork to do. If she prioritised her most important tasks she could probably leave the others until the following day. Besides, if she were honest with herself, her curiosity had been well and truly piqued.

_Give me an hour, _she found herself typing back.

Fifty seven minutes later she stepped through the front door and frowned at the welcome committee hanging around in the hall to greet her, surprised that both House and Rachel appeared to be dressed ready to go out. Apparently pleased to see her, they were looking at her expectantly as if they knew something she didn't, which left her more than a little unnerved.

"Marina just called and told me you sent her home after she picked Rachel up from school."

"Yep!" he confirmed chirpily.

"Why?"

"Because we're going to the park." Smugly he grinned at her and watched her face contort angrily.

"You dragged me away from work to go to the park?" she inquired furiously, the added disbelief raising her tone an octave. "Do you have any idea how much trouble I'd be in if someone found out?"

House rolled his eyes. The day she stopped being a drama queen was probably the day she stopped drawing breath.

"Well I doubt a member of the Board will be lurking by the swings."

"That's not the point!"

"Fine! I promise I won't do it again, but now you're here it's pointless you going back…" He raised his eyebrows defiantly as he sensed her about to launch into a tirade about how irresponsible his actions were, and stood his ground, his body language evidently enough to stifle her fury for the time being. "Now go and put something on that's more park-appropriate and less Mistress of the Universe!"

Utterly nonplussed by the turn of events Cuddy looked as if she was about to protest, but decided against it, instead narrowing her eyes at him curiously and then stalking her way down the hall, before closing her bedroom door behind her in a way that left him in no doubt she wasn't impressed.

Glancing down at the comparatively tiny figure next to him, House saw her eyes sparkling from underneath the fuchsia pink woolly hat he'd planted on her head and smiled back, his hand promptly jutting out for her to high five.

"Mission accomplished, partner!"

* * *

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Cuddy sighed, tucking her hands in her pockets and shuddering against the cool breeze as she sat next to House on the park bench. "I haven't bunked off work since…"

"Since I told your PA you were sick, and we had a lot of sex in my apartment," he interrupted, grinning at her brazenly. "You didn't put up that much resistance then either."

"You're a bad influence." She smiled, as much to herself as anybody else. One thing she'd known from the moment she'd met him was that life was never dull around Gregory House.

"You're not the first person to have said that."

"It's hardly the first time I've said it either."

With bemused smirks on their faces they both turned their attention to Rachel, who was squealing gleefully as she torpedoed down the slide, a new friend she'd just made careering down after her equally enthralled. Together they ran back to the steps and started the process all over again.

"Do you think she'd happy?" Cuddy asked thoughtfully.

"How much proof do you need?"

"I don't mean just now. I mean generally… This isn't what normally happens. During the week I see her for half an hour before work and then maybe an hour and a half afterwards. Less if something holds me back."

"You're a single parent with a full-time job."

She took a deep breath as she continued to watch her daughter, her eyes not moving from her as she continued to play happily with the slightly younger girl.

"And that's my point… Most of the time I worry I'm not enough for her. That when she gets older she's going to hate me for not being there."

"She's not stupid, Cuddy. She'll know you did your best."

"What if my best isn't good enough?"

"No you're right," House seemed to concede, gesturing in the five year old's direction as she brushed off the autumn leaves from the other little girl's coat after a fall just like her Mom had done for her whenever she took a tumble. "She's clearly going to grow up to be a sociopathic crack addict."

"If you're not taking this seriously," she chuntered in response, causing him to roll his eyes in despair.

"For God's sake, woman!... When I was a couple of years older than her my Mom used to lock me in the house on my own, and go to peace demonstrations with the guy she was cheating on my Dad with… My Dad, when I saw him, used to make me call him Sir and drop and do ten if I did something he didn't like… Somehow between her patting me on the head and telling me how perfect I am before she constantly left me to amuse myself, and nothing ever being good enough for him, they managed to turn me into an insecure narcissist with a drug problem… Trust me, Cuddy, you're not going to be winning any prizes for being the World's worst parent any time soon."

The corners of her mouth ticked upwards.

"If that's your way of saying I'm a good Mom, thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied with genuine warmth.

"I need to thank you for looking after Rachel last night too."

He shrugged casually.

"Like I said, I owed you a favour." He turned away and squinted into the middle distance, the afternoon, autumn sunshine distorting his vision. "How was your date?"

"It was ok," she replied cautiously. Discussing someone she was seeing with an ex-boyfriend was one of the most comfortable situations to find herself in. House wasn't exactly just any ex either.

"Just ok?"

"Alex was nice. The bar was nice. I enjoyed myself. I guess that's all there is to say."

"And you're going to see him again?"

Still his eyes didn't meet hers, a flock of birds flying overhead affording him a convenient distraction.

"I think so."

"Good!" he answered a little too enthusiastically for it to sound like he really meant it.

"Is that what this is about? You dragging me out of work to grill me about last night?" She couldn't exactly help being sceptical. He'd been behaving strangely, by his standards at least, since he'd come back. Experience had taught her to anticipate some kind of rouse from him, especially when he was being oddly reasonable.

He shook his head.

"Nope… We're celebrating."

"Celebrating what?"

"My best friend leaving me everything in his will." Pausing as if he was still processing the information himself, he turned to Cuddy and saw the same surprised look on her face that he must have had when he found out. Wilson had never mentioned it, and the truth was he hadn't expected anything, nor had he had any agenda in relation to his friend's estate. For someone who made it his business to cover all bases, it had come as a complete shock. "His lawyer called me this morning… Turns out Jimmy was a dark horse. Aside from the condo he had money invested all over the place… Let's just say I'll be able to afford a lot of bottles of whiskey and cigars from now on."

"I know it doesn't make up for him not being here, but I'm glad," she soon offered after considering what he'd just told her. "He wanted to look after you in some way after everything you did."

"He still went and died on me." A wry smile spread across his lips. "Selfish bastard!"

"All those ex-wives and he ends up leaving you all of the money, huh?" she inquired jovially, a hint of mischief twinkling in her eye. "Those rumours about you two must have been true."

Feigning stoicism, he nodded.

"He always said I was a great lay."

"As if sleeping with the boss wasn't enough, you had to sleep with my Head of Oncology too," Cuddy joked back. "Who's next? Hourani?"

In spite of himself, House snorted. When she let her hair down, his ex-girlfriend could be fiercely funny.

"I was thinking of trading you both in for a younger model… Chase is still single, right?"

As if consoling him, she pulled her hand from her pocket and placed it over his.

"There's no easy way to break this to you, House, but Chase is way too pretty for you." Smirking at each other, her gaze soon fell down to where their hands met and she threaded her fingers through his tightly, revelling in the warmth of his skin against her cool digits. For a while a comfortable silence fell between them as they watched Rachel lead the other girl over to the swings, both of them amused by how the younger child appeared to be in awe of her.

"What happened with Wilson was awful," Cuddy eventually said quietly, immediately sensing him tense up next to her. "There's no getting around that. There never will be… But you've got to make it count for something."

"Meaning?"

She seemed to hesitate and then locked her eyes squarely on his, determined to say her piece.

"Don't use this as an excuse to go back on the Vicodin."

"Why would it matter if I did?" he frowned.

"Because one way or another it'll kill you… I'm not anywhere near ready to watch them bury someone else I care about."

Mutely he glanced away, finding himself moved by her honesty. Knowing that he was still important to her was always going to matter, regardless of what the future held. There were very few people whose opinion actually counted for anything in his eyes, but what she thought about him had plagued him practically from the moment he'd met her back at Michigan.

"You hungry?" he asked, changing the subject on purpose.

"I could eat. Why?"

Getting to his feet, House hauled Cuddy up next to him.

"Dinner's on Wilson!"

* * *

"She ok?" Cuddy queried when House re-entered the living room, her elbow resting on the back of the sofa as she watched him sink into the chair opposite her. He looked tired, maybe a little troubled even, certainly enough to make her wonder if he was in pain or if something else was on his mind.

"She was snoring before I got to the last page." The hint of an affectionate smile tinged his pursed lips.

"It's not everyone she asks to read to her... You have a fan."

"I can't help being popular with the Cuddy ladies. It's my natural charm," he cracked back.

Musing to herself, she had to admit he'd somehow managed to charm her Mother too when they'd been together. After they'd split up she'd constantly tried to coax her daughter to go back to him. That had never happened before with the few other guys she'd actually been with long enough to introduce to her family. Generally her Mom's attitude was one of good riddance whenever her relationships had come to an end, but evidently with House she'd seen something more worthy there. Julia, on the other hand, was the exception to the rule. For her he might as well have had the words 'drug addict' and 'unstable' lit up above his head in big lights, and she'd made it perfectly clear she was relieved when her sister had finished with him, even suggesting she find ways to get rid of him from the hospital. As if things hadn't been confusing enough at the time, at the time she'd felt like she was being pulled in all directions.

"We both had a great afternoon… Thanks for liberating me from a pile of paperwork."

"Makes a change from burying you underneath it, huh?" he jested, but the mirth didn't quite seem to spread to his eyes. Somewhat restlessly he balled up his fist and rubbed it over his forehead, his gaze apparently searching around the room for something to land on: anywhere, but her.

Feeling a chill around her shoulders, Cuddy pulled the throw from the back of the sofa and drew it round her, a gnawing sense of trepidation growing in her core. Something was up. She was certain of it now, but she had neither the will or the urge to openly broach it and potentially ruin what had been a good day. Whatever it was could at least wait until the morning.

"You want to take the bed tonight? I don't mind sleeping on the couch in Rachel's room again."

"You won't have to. I booked myself into a hotel earlier."

"Oh," she retorted, her mouth forming into a perfect circle. She'd expected him to leave at some point, but not so suddenly tonight.

"I was only ever going to stay here for a few days, and it's been a few days."

"Are you going to see if you can get your old apartment back?"

He shook his head slowly.

"No."

"Maybe that's a good thing," she proposed more light-heartedly than she felt. Something about his current stony demeanour was unsettling her. "What about work? When do you want to come back?... I don't want to rush you, but this whole power struggle between Foreman and Chase stopped being cute after the first month."

"I'm not coming back, Cuddy… I can't." He'd tried to imagine himself back there on numerous occasions, and he just couldn't. There'd always be an absence there now that Wilson was gone. It'd be a constant reminder, and there was no way he could live with that day in, day out. Not if he was serious about staying away from things that numbed the physical and mental pain.

"But you're staying in Princeton?" she pressed.

His eyes remained glued to an interior design magazine on the coffee table, the woman on the opened page in her perfect home with her perfect partner and children seeming to sneer at him tauntingly.

"Travelling around with Wilson made me realise there's tons of places I haven't seen yet… Now I've got the means and opportunity to do something about it."

"But at some point you'll have to put down roots somewhere."

"There's some great research going on in Europe now. They always need people."

"Europe?" she gulped, his subsequent curt nod feeling like a punch in the gut. Straight away she panicked. In her mind this was the grief talking. Here he had a small, but reliable network of people to lean on, whereas out there he had no-one. She had to get him to see sense, otherwise he'd make a catastrophically stupid mistake. "You don't know anybody in Europe… You'll be on your own."

"I was on my own long before I met you and Wilson. I'll be fine."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she took a deep breath, realisation hitting her abruptly.

"That was what today was really about, wasn't it?... You saying goodbye?"

For what seemed like an eternity he didn't respond, his fingers instead drumming out the beat of tune he'd heard at the restaurant he'd taken her and Rachel too on the arm of the chair. The part of him that hated goodbyes had nearly left without a word. Like pulling a band aid off the wound in one fell swoop, he'd been tempted go without so much as a farewell note. But then there was the side to him that knew he owed her more than that, the side that couldn't resist spending as much time as possible with her before he did what he had to do.

At last he stumbled on a way to articulate what was going through his head.

"I have so many regrets in my life, Cuddy… I regret not asking my Dad before he died why he felt the need to beat the crap out of me when I was half his size. I regret not asking my Mum who my real Dad was when I was young enough for it to matter… I regret not agreeing to the amputation, because I was too fucking proud to lose my leg. I regret pushing Stacy away after the infarction… I really fucking regret calling Wilson's phone the night Amber came to pick me up from that bar."

Lifting his head he shifted his gaze to look at her.

"And then there's you… There are so many times I've hurt you. That I've made you cry… And then there's all the times I was a coward. Like when I didn't have the stones to ask you if you wanted me to be the donor when you were having the IVF… Or when I thought you were going to die, and all I could think about was what was going to happen to me… This is me finally doing the right thing and getting out of your life once and for all."

With fresh tears streaking down her cheeks, Cuddy set her jaw and regarded him angrily.

"No House, this is bullshit!... You're just pissed off because I'm seeing someone. It was one date! A date which _you_ told me to go on."

"And you think I can handle watching you be with someone else after Lucas?" he quizzed, his arms flying out to the sides furiously. "You think I enjoyed seeing another man take you out last night?"

"Then I'll tell Alex I can't see him anymore."

"Why the hell should you?... I know you like him. I know he's the type of guy you should be with… This is my problem, not yours."

"Things can go back to normal. We can go back how things were before you went away. Us being friends was working."

Incredulously he shook his head as she pleaded with him. Normal had ended the day Wilson had told him about the cancer. This time there no way of putting everything back in the box and closing the lid. That she couldn't see that was the thing that pissed him off.

"So we're meant to spend the rest of our lives circling around each other and scaring off the competition?" he spat in annoyance. "That's your idea of a friendship working?"

Wet tracks now glazing her cheeks, Cuddy rubbed the back of her hand over either side of her face and sniffed.

"I don't want you to go."

"I can't stay here and pretend nothing has changed, because it has," he said softly, wishing he could have somehow done this without bringing her to tears. His brow furrowing, a ghost of an idea came to him and before he knew what he doing he was verbalizing it. "You could come with me."

Genuinely taken aback by his proposal, she found herself chuckling wryly in disbelief.

"So now you expect me to give up my life and follow you wherever the mood takes you?"

"Why not?... I know you don't get the same buzz out of working at the hospital as you used to. You just thanked me for taking you away from it all this afternoon."

"I can't give up a job just because I'm bored!" she screamed frustratedly. "That's not how it works for everybody else, House… And what about Rachel?... I'm meant to just drag her out of school, away from her family and friends, on a whim? Children need stability."

"Kids need to know that they're loved, that's all!... Rachel knows that you love her."

"And suddenly you're the expert on what my daughter needs?"

Exhausted and unwilling to labour his point of view on this anymore, he gave in. How could he argue what was best for a child he barely knew, even if he had grown fond of her again over the last couple of days? Asking her to come with him was a moment of weakness that he shouldn't have allowed himself to give into. All it had given him was a moment's false hope. What good had that ever done him?

"I can't make you come with me, no matter how much I want you to, but I am going." Rubbing his hand over his face wearily, he let the air filter out of his lungs. "I want more, Cuddy. I want more with you and Rachel, but if I can't then I have to at least try to find it out there somewhere with someone else."

"You were the one who said we were a disaster together the other day."

"I know," he breathed. Who would argue that things had gone swimmingly between them the first time round? They'd been so scared of screwing things up that they'd done exactly that, a self-fulfilling prophecy that had made them wary of trying again, no matter how much they always gravitated into each other's orbit. "I'm not going to blame you if you can't go there again."

"If I say no, I'm not going to see you again, am I?" she pushed, her teeth grazing her lip as she knew the answer he was going to give before he shook his head.

"Clean break would be better for both of us."

"And I'm supposed to make a decision right now?"

"I'll be in town for about another week. I need to sell the stuff I kept in storage, see to things with the lawyer." Undermining the gravity of what he was asking, he simply shrugged his shoulders. "Just call me and let me know either way."

Feeling like he'd said all there was to say, he stood up and walked towards her, his hand instinctively reaching out to brush her cheek with the backs of his fingers, but she turned her head away and refused to look at him.

"Just go."

"Ok," was all he could think of to say, turning obediently and walking into the hall, immediately going through the motions of putting his jacket on and grabbing his bag and cane as if in a daze. Just as he was about to open the front door, her strained voice stopped him in his tracks.

"This is you bailing on me again, House. You don't get to shift responsibility onto me by asking me to go with you when you know I can't!" she choked with mix of vitriol and despair. "You could be there for Wilson, but you're never going to be there for me. Not when I really need you… Convince yourself you love me all you want, but you still don't fucking care about me!"

Seeing her so obviously cut up, he supressed the urge to comfort her. It solved nothing. Making her hate him a little served a purpose however.

"Then me leaving is the best thing for both of us," he uttered coldly, determined not to offer up a speck of how he was really feeling.

Not daring to look at her again, he opened the door and then swiftly closed it behind him, stepping out into the bitterly cold, night air.


	4. Chapter 4

_Once again you guys have been marvellous! Big thank yous to everybody who read, reviewed, favourited and alerted in the last week. You're all awesome!_

_Penultimate chapter here, folks!_

_They aren't mine._

* * *

It's the sound of water gently lapping against the side of something that wakes House up. For a split second he thinks he's fallen asleep in the bath, but then he realises his legs would be wet, which he's pretty certain they aren't. In fact, if he remembers correctly, the hotel room he's staying in only has a shower. Blinking open his eyes he immediately closes them again against the impossibly bright sunshine and sits up, his hands instinctively bolstering himself against the sides of what he's starting to recognise as a boat. Slowly accustoming his eyes to the light again, that's when he senses he's not alone: a familiar figure is sat opposite him, effortlessly gliding the blades through the crystal blue water and looking to his left as if he's focused on the horizon.

"I'm dreaming!" he finally declares in exasperation.

In front of him Wilson laughs and finally looks him in the eye.

"Either that or you've died and gone to Heaven."

Looking around at his serene surroundings; the perfectly transparent water that stretched for miles and seemed to meet the equally idyllic sky straight out of a painting, House couldn't help but frown. It was all a little too seamless, and such flawlessness had always made him twitchy.

"If this was Heaven I'd have to put in for a transfer. I get sea-sick."

"No you don't," Wilson protested, leaving him to roll his eyes and sigh. The oncologist was nothing if not gullible.

"You know, you're even annoying when you're dead."

"You say that, but I've actually been conjured up by your subconscious…. You've only got yourself to blame."

With House having no suitable comeback, a number of minutes seemed to drift by as they sat in a comfortable silence, all the while House enjoying the presence of his best friend. It didn't seem to matter that none of it was real. He missed him. He was always going to miss him. This was his mind summoning up the very thing he'd lost, and yet he felt there was more to it than simple wish fulfilment. Even when he was asleep his brain often worked overtime, and tried to solve problems. On numerous occasions he'd fallen asleep with no idea how to save his patient, and then the following morning he'd awoken with the answer on the tip of his tongue.

"Why am I seeing you now?" he inquired out loud, more to himself than the man in front of him.

"Maybe it's not just about me," the oncologist shrugged. "Boats in dreams have been synonymous with impending journeys for thousands of years."

"This isn't about me going away. Not specifically." His brow furrowed at the centre, seemingly facilitating his musings until rather sarcastically the palm of his hand bashed against his forehead as if he was having a light bulb moment. "You're here about her, so spit it out!"

Apparently not knowing what he was talking about, Wilson looked completely baffled.

"Who?"

"Your Mother, obviously!" House shot back, irritated by his ignorance. "You've spent years nagging me about Cuddy. Why let the small matter of being dead stop you?"

Nonchalantly Wilson shrugged and continued pulling the oars back and forth, his gaze returning to the ripples on the water.

"Why would I nag you about Cuddy now? Your relationship was over years ago. You're both finally moving on… I think it's a good thing."

Annoyed by his best friend's laissez-faire attitude to the situation, House scoffed. He'd had this technique tried out on him numerous times before, and it wasn't going to work this time either.

"This whole reverse psychology thing is cute."

"So you want me to tell you not to go?" Wilson said impatiently. "That the pair of you should subject yourselves to a kind of Limbo for the rest of your lives?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean, House?" With his eyes burning into his friend's, it was clear the younger man was in no mood to suffer fools. "If you can't live without her then find a way not to."

"I need her. I've always needed her." He paused and thought for a minute about all the times she'd saved him. From unemployment, from prison, from himself, and yet the realisation hung heavily on him. It was unfair to expect her to live with that kind of burden for the rest of her life. She could be happy. Just without him. "That's not a good enough reason for me to stick around."

"And you don't think she needs you?"

"Like she said, all I ever do is bail on her… She needs someone who won't."

"Then you're doing the right thing." Wilson said simply.

Unconvinced, House crossed his arms over his chest.

"That's it?... No hour long sermons about the virtues of sticking with something, rather than running away."

"I've been married three times, House. That would make me a hypocrite… Besides, there's plenty more fish in the sea."

Watching him gesture over the side of the boat, House followed his line of vision and looked at the water, but there was nothing of note there. Only the azure blue he was used to seeing on postcards and in films. Dipping his hand into the sea he expected to feel the familiar cool, dampness on his fingertips, nevertheless he felt nothing. Confused, he lifted his head to complain, but Wilson was gone, and the oars left pointing towards him in an open invitation.

* * *

From somewhere in the depths of his sleep, House heard his phone ring. Not bothering to open his eyes, he clumsily he reached out for it and accidently knocked a glass of water off the stand, cursing under his breath before he finally managed to answer it.

"Yeah?"

"Hi," came a small, unmistakeable voice that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Rubbing his eyes he squinted at the hotel alarm clock and saw it was a little past one in the morning.

"Hi."

"Are you still in the country, or is this call costing me a fortune?" she asked, trying to sound light-hearted, but not really succeeding.

"Still here… I fly out in a couple of days."

"So where to first?" Again she was trying to be breezy, but something was off in her tone. It seemed forced. Four days had passed since he'd walked out of her house and left her in tears. For the first couple he'd tried to stop himself from constantly checking his phone by distracting himself with the necessary arrangements. He'd sold almost everything he'd saved from his apartment to the pawn dealer he'd been forced to salvage his belongings from when Alvie broke into his place and decided to decorate. It didn't matter that he'd been ripped off. Getting rid of his possessions had left him oddly relieved; as if someone had released him from some of the shackles that were tying him down. After that he'd resigned himself to the fact she wasn't going to call. They'd parted on bad terms, and once and for all it was over. It was for the best.

Except there she was talking to him now.

"What's with the small talk, Cuddy?"

At the other end he heard her sigh, and could imagine her biting her lip as she held the phone to her ear.

"I need to see you," she whispered, hesitating momentarily before she went on. "To talk."

Pressing the back of his head further into the pillow, House grimaced at the twinge in his thigh and absently rubbed the remaining muscle through the cover. What good could more talking possibly do?

"We talked before… We've said everything that needs saying."

For what seemed like an eternity she said nothing, the only sound coming when he thought he heard her gulp. Just when he was on the verge of asking if she was still there, she finally responded brusquely.

"You know what? You're right… Have a nice life, House!" And then she was gone, the beeping sound after she ended the call signalling the finality of it all.

Minutes ticked by, his phone still in his palm, and he kept on telling himself that he should be thankful. He couldn't let her down anymore, and that was a huge reason to stay away in itself, even if it came across as heartless. She'd call him all the names under the Sun, sure she'd be upset for a few days, but then she'd dust herself down and get on with the rest of her life. Soon he'd just be bad memory of years of wasted longing and anxiety.

In spite of that he couldn't seem to bring himself to put down his cell. She sounded hurt, certainly more than just annoyed; vulnerable too. Rubbing a hand over his tired eyes he willed himself to push it out of his mind and go back to sleep, but he couldn't. Worry wouldn't allow him to. Cuddy had a routine. Even if she was stressed to the point of pulling her hair out, she forced herself to go to bed before midnight. Barring emergencies, her being wide awake and making personal phone calls in the early hours of the morning was unheard of.

Settling on a compromise he dialled her number, reasoning that even if she told him to get lost at least it would give him peace of mind, however it went straight to voicemail. Again he dialled, and again he heard her voice telling him to leave a message, which did little to calm him down as various scenarios taunted him. What if she'd really needed his help, and he'd more or less politely told her to fuck off? If only he'd asked her why she needed to talk, he wouldn't have the gnawing sense of dread he was currently experiencing. But if it was something serious, she'd call her Mom or her sister, right?... _Right?_

Feeling his leg about to spasm, he swung his body out from under the covers and planted his feet on the floor, unwittingly placing his soles in the puddle he'd made when he spilled the contents of the glass. The cold, dampness jarringly threw him back to the vast expanse of water in his dream. After Wilson had gone he'd rowed on his own for what seemed like days, and still he'd made it no closer to land, the blue haze of the water and the sky melding into one until he had no clue of what was up and what was down. He had no compass, nothing to aim for and it all felt so numbingly pointless: like drowning in something beautiful, but nevertheless hollow and superficial.

Unable to do nothing any longer, he swiftly put his clothes on and headed out.

* * *

Standing in the doorway to her living room, House saw Cuddy sat on the floor in front of the coffee table nursing a glass of wine, and felt the air filter out of his lungs involuntarily, relief permeating through the whole of his body.

"You're trespassing," she mumbled without turning back to look at him, her finger tracing around the rim of the glass as the lit table lamp provided the little light that highlighted the room. Going by the redness around her eyes it was blatantly obvious she'd been crying.

"Then call the cops."

"Most people would realise they're not wanted when someone doesn't answer the door."

"I'm not most people," he retorted, edging further into the room and standing next to her. "If you really wanted to keep me out of your house, you should have learnt to hide the spare key somewhere else by now."

"Well you've seen me now, so you can turn back around and get lost with a clear conscience."

Angrily she drained the contents of her glass, and then poured herself another from the bottle next to her, before she sluggishly banged it back down on the table. However much she'd drunk already it was having an effect on her co-ordination, and that bothered him. He was the one who found a temporary solution to his problems at the bottom of a glass, not her. Taking a step back, he sat on the arm of the sofa and watched her.

"Is this pity party invitation only, or can anybody join in?"

"Screw you!" Once more she reached for her glass and narrowly avoided knocking it over, causing him to get up and grab it and the bottle from her before she hurt herself. Outraged Cuddy finally turned to look at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Those who can't handle their drink don't get to drown their sorrows… Just stay there."

Before she had chance to object, he'd risen to his feet and left the room, returning moments later with a glass of water and two aspirin, which he duly handed to her.

"I don't have a headache."

"Trust me, you will," he insisted, standing over her like a stern parent until she eventually swallowed the tablets and set the glass down in front of her. Satisfied, he awkwardly lowered himself down onto the floor and sat next to her, shaking his head when Cuddy defiantly shuffled an inch away from him. Resolving to ignore the action, he decided to try and strike up a conversation.

"Where's Rachel?"

"It's Friday night. She always stays at my Mom's."

"I forgot." He hadn't, but talking about Rachel was fairly neutral territory. From the corner of his eye he saw her pick at the cuticles on her nails, a sure sign that she was agitated.

"Look, House, it's late and there's no reason for you to be here."

"You called me."

"Which was a mistake," she said abruptly.

"In that case I'll stay until I'm certain you're not going to fall asleep and choke on your own vomit, then I'll go."

Apparently affronted, Cuddy snorted.

"Why do you even care?"

"Why do you think I care?" he spat back loudly, making her jump. Appalled with himself, he reached out to touch the back of her hand as means of an apology, but she recoiled. Sighing to himself, he glanced at her clothing: they definitely weren't work clothes, or anything she'd wear around the house. "You went on another date."

"How is that any of your business?"

"Did you sleep with him?" he inquired in quick succession, the words tripping off his tongue before he had chance to censor them. He had to know though. His natural, morbid curiosity wouldn't let it lie.

"My sex life is nothing to do with you anymore… In fact no area of my life is your concern any longer."

"So you did?" he persisted, swallowing the bile that crept up his throat.

"You are such a goddamn hypocrite!" Venomously she eyeballed him, thoroughly pissed off by his double standards. "Did you think I wouldn't hear about the numerous hookers you've screwed since we broke up?"

"I haven't had sex with anybody since that night we came back here." His voice remained even, his gaze steady. Enough at least for her to consider that he was telling the truth.

"So the rumours that you knew would get back to me weren't true?"

"I called a girl over a few weeks after I got back from Mayfield, but I couldn't go through with it." Letting his eyes drop to the floor, his mind flew back to the night it happened. He'd lost a patient, scotch wasn't quite cutting it as a distraction, and he'd wanted to lose himself in the act. Instead when the young woman knocked at his door and he'd opened it to her, he'd felt excruciatingly old, pathetic and lonely. "Didn't feel right. She ended up cleaning my apartment… As for the rumours, I had a reputation to uphold… Didn't want people knowing I was still hung up on my ex, who just happened to be my boss too." He shrugged. "You wanted things to go back to normal, so I made it appear that they had."

Letting the information sink in, Cuddy rested her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes, something akin to satisfaction washing over her. At the time she'd tried not to let the rumours bother her. After all, she'd been the one who'd ended the relationship. How he spent his free time, and who with weren't her problem any longer, and yet each new piece of gossip she overheard in the cafeteria, or through her PA stung like a slap to the face.

"I haven't been able to sleep properly since you left… Rachel's barely speaking to me. She's convinced I sent you away again."

"Why didn't you tell her the truth?"

"I didn't want to spoil the illusion that you can actually rely on the people you care about when she's as young as this… She wouldn't have believed me anyway. Pretty sure she thinks you can walk on water right now." Blinking her eyes open again, she craned her neck to the side to look at him. "I told Julia what happened. She said what she usually says… That you're a loser, who's done nothing but hurt me. That I need to forget about you and move on to someone better. Someone like Alex… So I called him… He took me out, we had dinner and then I invited myself back to his place..."

"I don't need to know the gory details," he interrupted, his jaw flexing indignantly.

"Just shut up and listen for once." There was no real force in her words, but she needed him to hear her out. "We talked for a while and then I kissed him… And I felt nothing... I felt numb, but I thought if I just kept going it wouldn't matter… Somehow I'd be magically over you and in a relationship with a guy who ticked all the right boxes. You think I'd learn, huh?"

Wryly she smiled at him, but he didn't return the gesture. Instead he regarded her sorrowfully, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he gulped and poised himself to speak.

"Please tell me you didn't."

"I was so angry with you." She paused and saw her surroundings distort behind a veil of tears, the first falling down her cheek when she blinked. "But I couldn't… I freaked out. I wanted you. I just wanted you… I think it's safe to say Alex thinks I'm deranged, and I won't be seeing him again." Sniffing she dabbed at her wet cheeks with the back of hand, and took a deep breath to steel herself. "I need to get used to the fact I'm going to be on my own."

"You won't be on your own… You've got your sister and your Mom… Rachel."

"I've always felt lonely around Julia and Mom. They have their little club that I'm not a part of… I love Rachel. I'm lucky to have her, but it's not exactly the same."

"Plenty more fish in the sea," he found himself saying, repeating what Wilson had told him in his dream, but the words rung hollow.

He and Cuddy were such different people, and yet in some ways the same. She didn't find close relationships easy either. Just like him she'd always either put a barrier between herself and other people, or eventually messed up every single attachment she'd had in the end. In any case it was the type of banal platitude that always irritated the crap out of him. That the words had sprung from his own lips was all the more exasperating.

Next to him Cuddy nodded.

"I keep on hearing what you said about finding more out there with someone else. It goes round and round my head all the time… The thing is you should… Somewhere out there there's another woman who's younger, prettier and less of a control freak."

"I said it to stop you worrying about me," he qualified. "You're not responsible for my actions anymore. You never should have been… I don't care about meeting someone else."

"You could have a child of your own with someone who's capable of giving you that… Somewhere at the back of my mind I always knew you wanted kids. You moan about them all the time, but they like you and you like them… I should never have let you think we had any hope of trying again. That was selfish… It doesn't matter why you said it. All that matters is that's what you should do, before it's too late…" Weakly she smiled at him. "You could have a family, House."

"You fucking idiot!" he muttered under his breath, his apparent fury bewildering her.

"I'm an idiot for telling you to be happy?"

"You are my family!" he nearly screamed, her stupidity galling him beyond belief. "You and Wilson always were…. I was even closer to the morons you made me work with than the people I share DNA with, or those we pretended I shared DNA with anyway… I love you. In time I could learn to love Rachel like she was mine too."

Taken aback by his honesty, Cuddy needed to make sense of another piece of the puzzle.

"Then why are you walking away?"

"Because I have to."

"What if we agreed to try again?"

House shook his head.

"It wouldn't work… We'd still be tiptoeing around each other at home and at the hospital. Our working relationship requires some sort of professional distance, and we aren't able to do that." He stopped to run a weary hand through his hair and glanced at clock on the mantel, making it shortly before 3am. "It's not even just us. I can't work there… I can't work in my office knowing Wilson isn't around the corner anymore… I couldn't deal with it, and then I'd start looking for ways to deal with it that start with 'V' and end in 'icodin'." Cautiously he leaned over and took her hand, pleased that this time she didn't pull away. "I'm not running away this time… I'm just sick of clinging to things that drag me down."

"And that includes me?" Cuddy quizzed back, the distress barely concealed on her features.

"If it hadn't been for you and the Boy Wonder, I would have gone under a long time ago." Tightly he wound his fingers around hers. "Offer still stands. You, me and the midget can get on a plane in a couple of days."

For an age she kept quiet, her eyes searching his for an answer he wasn't sure he could give.

"Three months."

Immediately his brow furrowed.

"Three months?"

"We go away for three months, and then we come back to the States," she clarified. Waiting for him to respond, she licked her lips apprehensively.

"Cuddy, I can't come back to Princeton… This isn't something that a long vacation is going to solve."

"I know," she agreed. "We both look for jobs somewhere else. Somewhere far enough away for a fresh start, but close enough so that Rachel and I can see my Mom and Julia fairly regularly… As big a pain in the ass they can be, my Mom's not getting any younger and we both love them. Rachel adores her cousins too… I can't take her away from them altogether, nor can I take any chances with her education. Those aren't things I can compromise on."

"But we go next week?" he pressed.

"You know I need to work a month's notice."

"What am I supposed to do for a month?" he breathed, the query stemming from a fear that this was her stalling.

Casually she shrugged her shoulders.

"Buy a map and stick pins in it… It'd give us time to plan properly."

"And there goes the spontaneity," he retorted, rolling his eyes. When he was planning to go on his own there had been no plan. He intended to turn up at the airport, see which flight took his fancy and go from there.

"We'd be travelling with a five year old. She has enough spontaneity for both of us."

"You're serious about this?... You're not going to wake up sober tomorrow and change your mind?"

"Years ago I wanted to travel too, then work took over everything… I guess you're not the only one who feels like it's time to move on."

Seeing the resolve on her face, House let the corners of his mouth turn upwards into a broad, mischievous grin.

"I am so taking you bikini shopping."

"Then you'd better wax before we go… I got a peak the other night before you got in the bath, and…" Playfully she let the rest of the sentence hang in the air, and beamed at him.

"You go right ahead and tease the cripple!" House chirped back, pouting in mock disgust.

Willing to go along with it, Cuddy got onto her knees and then turned to straddle him, her hands falling onto his shoulders to steady herself.

"Am I going to have to have to think of ways to make it up to you?"

Without waiting for him to give her an answer, she leaned down and kissed him hungrily, purposefully banishing the memory of the passionless embrace she'd had earlier with a man she didn't love. Alex was a mistake born out of her wish to appease other people and 'do the right thing'. Again, stupidly, she'd let herself fall down that hole. House was her past, her present, and hopefully her future for a long time to come. Eventually pulling away, she ran a hand through his hair and watched his eyelids flutter open again.

"Well that's working for me," he cracked. "You should apologise more often."

Sharing his amusement, she looked down at the bulge in his jeans and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"We could..."

"Not tonight," he replied definitively.

"You're turning me down?" She was genuinely surprised, not least of all because it never happened.

"You've drunk nearly a full bottle of wine."

Unimpressed, she pursed her lips.

"You'd hardly be taking advantage of me."

"Believe me, I want to, but It's late. You're tired and so am I… When it happens, which I'm hoping is pretty soon, I want to bring my A-game."

Snaking his fingers down the side of her cheek, he regarded her affectionately and pecked her chastely on the lips, determined not to take things any further than that. If they were both slightly tipsy, that would be fine. It'd be a level playing field, but as much she claimed that it wasn't the case, he would have felt guilty. His beautiful, smart, funny and inebriated girlfriend deserved better than a clumsy fumble on the living room floor at three in the morning.

"I'm a mess!" she suddenly declared, laying her forehead against his.

"I'm the King of Messes." He moved slightly and kissed her delicately on the nose. "You can be my hot, drunken Queen." It was gibberish, but in his tired state he didn't care. Using the smirk on her face as a gauge, she didn't seem to mind either.

"Actually I'm really tired," she mumbled quietly, struggling to keep her eyes open.

"Bed?"

She nodded.

"Bed."

Inanimately she continued to lean against him.

"Then you're going to have to get off me."


	5. Chapter 5

_Final chapter, guys! I guess this last bit is like an extended epilogue with interactions ranging from the morning after where the last chapter left off to several years later. I hope you like it! Your thoughts are always welcome. :)_

_Many, many thanks to everybody who's read, reviewed, favourited and alerted over the past weeks. You're the reason I don't procrastinate and watch bad TV instead. Also major props to my French expert. Thanks for helping me find the right line.;)_

_Shore owns them. I just took them into temporary custody._

* * *

4Sunlight streaking through the window roused House. Straight away the realisation that he wasn't back in the lumpy hotel bed brought a smile to his face, and his hand sought out the warm flesh next to him, except the other side of the bed was empty and cold. Blinking his eyes open he confirmed the absence and a sense of dread hit him. Briefly he mused there was a chance he'd dreamt the last few days, but then that didn't quite make sense. He distinctly remembered half-carrying Cuddy into the bedroom and getting her to take her dress off, before she more or less face-planted into the mattress and instantly fell asleep. As inconceivable as her getting herself that drunk might be, it actually happened.

Then his mind wandered somewhere more plausible. What if she had slept on the whole thing and decided it was a huge mistake? That they were a huge mistake? She'd been in a state the night before. It was stupid of him to think she'd actually have meant what she said. In trepidation he sighed and threw his legs out from under the covers, slowly standing up and preparing to bite the bullet. He'd find her, listen to her apologies and reasoning as to why it couldn't work, get dressed and then he'd leave. _For good_.

Following the smell of coffee he found her in the kitchen, hunched over her laptop and sipping from a mug, her hair tied back and dressed as if she'd been working out. It didn't matter that she wasn't wearing any make up, or that, by her standards at least, she was dressed scruffily, she was still achingly beautiful to him.

Eventually noticing him stood in the doorway, Cuddy turned and grinned at him warmly, instantly allaying any fears he'd had. She was clearly pleased to see him, and he felt like a moron for doubting her resolve.

"Hey!"

"You better not be working," he warned.

Happily she shook her head.

"For once, no."

Walking towards her, he circled his arms around her waist and looked over her shoulder at the computer screen, finding she was comparing various hotels near Mont St Michel. Inwardly he knew this was a big deal. He'd offered to take her the last time they were together, but excuses week after week regarding work and Rachel had made them shelf the idea until it just became a pipe dream. Now it was apparent she was eager to make it one step closer to reality.

"You're not watching lesbian porn then?"

"Not exactly," she chuckled, finding herself shiver as his stubble rubbed over the bare skin on her shoulder.

"So you were serious about this last night?"

"It's the craziest thing I've ever done, but yeah, I'm serious." In a way she needed to do this for herself too. Having convinced herself that she could put off travelling until she retired and her daughter was older seemed less of an option now. Wilson had been younger than her when his life had been cut short, painfully bringing home just how precarious her existence was in a way even her health scare hadn't two years previously. Nearing her sixth birthday, Rachel was old enough to appreciate the things they'd see too. It was time to start building memories, rather than a box load of regrets.

"Hiring me was pretty crazy."

"And that worked out pretty well in the end… Sometimes taking a risk pays off." He kissed her neck and then yawned loudly. "You still tired?"

"Why?" Smirking to herself she didn't answer him, but snaked her hand down the front of his shorts and gently wrapped her fingers around his cock, before expertly sliding her palm back and forth along the length of him. Immediately his eyes bulged out of his head. _That _he hadn't expected. "If you want something in your coffee, you're milking the wrong cow."

"I nearly woke you up earlier," she said coyly, ignoring the joke. "I wanted to say thank you for last night."

"Bagels would have done the trick."

He gulped and glanced down at her ministrations to check it was really happening. Seeing it really was, he whimpered in awe. Their prolonged separation melting away, she still knew exactly how to touch him and get a reaction.

"Bagels are boring, House… Besides I had something more mutually beneficial in mind."

Feeling himself begin to float away, his eyes closed of their own accord and like a distant echo heard himself grunt. The feel of her hand against him felt good. Too good.

"Cuddy if you don't stop…"

Abruptly she seemed to heed his words, pulling her hand out of his shorts, before she closed the laptop and slid it along the counter. When she was satisfied it was out of the way, her fingers tucked into the side of her jog pants and pulled them down, her underwear coming with them as she slid them down her legs and stepped out of them. Planting her palms down on the counter, she arched her back outwards and looked over her shoulder at a dumbstruck House, noting his eyes unable to tear themselves away from her newly bare ass.

"You turned me down last night. It's not happening again."

"Here?" he just about squeaked.

A flicker of a smirk curled her lip upwards.

"It wouldn't be the first time, would it?"

Unwilling to deny himself any longer House stepped forward grabbed her greedily, one hand finding its way under her vest top, as the other unapologetically palmed her ass and then trailed in between her legs. Instantly he realised how wet she was and he grinned to himself. Knowing the mere thought of them having sex had turned her on so much couldn't fail to boost his ego. How could it not? She was exceptionally sexy, smart and had an ass that could make angels weep with joy. More than that he was in love with her. Really in love. Cuddy was the only woman he'd ever wanted to fuck and make love to simultaneously.

"If I'd known you'd wake up this horny, I'd have set the alarm on my cell."

Deftly his fingers slipped inside her and curled, immediately nudging the spot that made the muscles in her thighs quiver. Responding to the new stimulus, Cuddy lurched further forward and began to grind her core against the palm of his hand involuntarily.

"Fuck!"

"You are so fucking hot," he breathed against her neck, before claiming her mouth in a hungry kiss as her head turned to give him access. For both of them the effect was dizzying; the realisation of two years' worth of love, lust and emotional frustration allowed to surface at last, like a creature used to living underground finally burrowing through the dirt to let the Sun shine on its face.

Eventually he broke away and saw the pleading look in her eye, which left him with no doubt what she wanted. Not having the heart or indeed the will power to deny her any longer, he briefly uncurled himself from around her body and dipped his thumbs into the elastic of his shorts, pulling them down enough so he could step forward again as he fleetingly realised how ridiculous he must look doing so.

Observing Cuddy wriggle her legs further open, immediately any thought that didn't involve her was banished from his mind. Gripping her hips tightly, he entered her slowly, luxuriating in the sensation of her wet heat around him until he couldn't push forward anymore. To say that she felt incredible was a hideous understatement, and it seemed that she was equally appreciative as a hearty moan bounced off the walls emanating from the woman underneath him. Spurred on by her vocal encouragement, his hips drew back and then forward again as he readjusted his stance, now bending over her and lacing his fingers through hers, the back of her head bracing against his shoulder and giving him the perfect opportunity to witness every single micro-expression on her face. In that moment everything about her was perfect to him: from the grey-blue of her eyes to the slight pout of her top lip as she lost herself. It seemed inconceivable that they'd actually screwed things up the first time, a needless waste of something irrefutably special, because they fit together: physically and emotionally. Once they pared back the fear, the insecurity and the pettiness, they really did make each other better. Safe in that knowledge now, House felt an overriding urge to express his reluctance to ever let her go again.

"I'm not going to sit back and watch another man take you out again," he grunted, driving into her as her eyes clenched shut in a mixture of elation and something just the right side of pain. "You're mine, Cuddy."

"You better know who you belong to as well," she replied shakily, stretching her tiny frame back against his bare chest and rocking with him on the balls of her feet. as his thrusts became increasingly less measured and more staccato.

"Why would I touch anybody else?" His words came out in pants and she knew neither of them was going to win prizes for longevity, as they both crept to the precipice at a heady pace. The fact was it didn't matter to her though. The sex was clumsy, crude and imperfect, and yet she'd never felt more loved, wanted or needed. Furthermore, once and for all she knew for certain that he was the man she loved, wanted and needed. Finally circumstance and honesty had allowed them to be on the same page.

A hand inching between her thighs again pulled her from her musings, the skilled fingers teasing her clit until her whole body shook, the shock of her orgasm hitting her suddenly and drawing a shrill gasp from her as she unconsciously verbalized her surprise and enjoyment. Behind her House felt her spasm around him, and allowed himself to let go, his final thrusts pressing her further against the kitchen unit, before he came and, as carefully as possible, collapsed on top of her. Breathlessly he kissed her cheek, and then winced as his thigh muscle began to sting, the strain of the physical exertion plaguing him as soon as the exquisite motion of their coupling had stopped. Realising he needed to sit down, begrudgingly he extracted himself from his girlfriend and pulled his underwear back up, soon slumping to the floor against a cupboard as he watched her find her own clothing and edge it back on. Just as out of breath as he was, she too slid down and sat next to him, her head resting on his shoulder affectionately. Looking up at him she couldn't help but notice he looked oddly morose.

"Is your leg ok?"

"It hurts a bit, but it's fine." Sensing something else was on his mind, Cuddy watched him drum his fingers on the tiled floor and waited for him to spit it out. Eventually he did. "I wanted our first time after we got back together to be a little better than a quick fumble against the kitchen counter."

"As quick fumbles go that was pretty good," she laughed, soon aware that he wasn't sharing the joke. "This really bothers you?" Feigning indifference he simply shrugged, but she knew it did. In some ways he was just as idealistic as she was. "House, the thing about you and me is that things hardly ever turn out how we expect them too… I never thought I'd see you again when I heard you'd left Michigan, and then I ended up hiring you. When I hired you I never thought we'd end up in relationship together, but we did. When we got together I never thought we'd mess up so badly, but we did…"

"Is this going somewhere, or are you just holding a memorial service for our greatest hits?" he interjected sarcastically.

"What I'm getting at, _if you'll let me finish_, is that we're going to argue, piss each other off and no doubt irritate the hell out of each other at times. Nothing will ever seem perfect, but I'd still rather be with you than anybody else… It's taken me a stupid amount of time to realise that… What just happened might not reach your high standards, Romeo, but I'd always trade ten minutes with you over any amount of time with anybody else…" Watching the lines on his forehead crease into a question, she answered it before he had to open his mouth. "Why?... Because I love you. Because it doesn't feel like that with anybody else… We both need to stop gazing at the cracks and waiting for it all to fall apart again, otherwise it will… I don't want that. Neither of us wants that. We have to just go with the flow, and see where it leads us… And, for the record, I'm not going to dump you just because we didn't do the whole dinner, candles and silk sheets thing. I have no wish to end this at all. Ever." She stopped and smiled at him. "That doesn't mean I'm not open to the romantic thing now and again. I am very open to that."

"And there was me thinking you were a cheap date," he cracked back, her reassurance allowing the corners of his mouth to creep up into a cheeky grin.

In response Cuddy ran the backs of her fingers over his chest as if she was investigating the skin underneath them, echoes of the week old trauma all but gone.

"It's a shame I'm going to have to beat you when your bruises are just about healed."

House scoffed.

"Less than twelve hours after we get back together, and you've already moved onto the heavy bondage."

"Shut up," she said softly, leaning in to kiss him, before hauling herself to up. Surprised by the movement, he frowned at her.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to pick Rachel up and we're meant to be having a family lunch at Mom's… I've got to tell them that I'm planning to give up work and go halfway around the World with you and Rachel for three months… Unsurprisingly I'm expecting fireworks."

Seeing her look so unsettled all of a sudden, House rose to his feet too.

"Sounds awesome! Room for a small one?"

"You want to come?" she inquired incredulously. The last time they'd been together any sort of interaction with her family had been his idea of hell. That he would offer to go without being cajoled into doing so was completely unexpected.

"How crap would it seem if I'm the one dragging you halfway around the World, but I don't have the balls to be there when you tell them?... Besides, I really want to see Julia's face when you turn up with me."

Seeing his features full of mischief, Cuddy's mind conjured up an awful thought.

"Please don't tell her we were running late because we were having sex."

"As if I would!" Unconvinced, she eyeballed him sceptically. "Trust me, I'm an unemployed doctor."

Letting her eyes fall to the floor, the air filtered out of her lungs as worry made her heart thunder in her chest like a hammer beating against a metal drum. Often her decisions were a matter of life and death, something which practice had allowed her to take in her stride, but this was different. Everything was about to change.

"This feels like I'm about to jump off a cliff."

Sensing her unease, he clasped her hand in his and ran his thumb soothingly over the back. The risk here was mostly hers. She was the one with the secure job, the home and the five year old daughter. It was a step into the unknown, for him as well, but for her especially. The least he could do was offer her his support.

"What do you need me to do?"

"I need you not to lose your temper… Both of them are probably going to push your buttons and you can't let that show. If you do they'll just use it against me as another reason why this is such a crazy idea… I can't deal with that right now."

Reluctantly House nodded. There was little he hated more than being forced to keep his mouth shut, but this time the reasoning was valid. Cuddy felt guilty enough at the slightest thing anyway, without pouring gasoline on a naked flame. If he argued with them instead of trying to charm them, he'd be handing them the ammunition to put more pressure on her not to go and take their granddaughter/niece with them, and consequently it would be less likely to happen. Even if he had to bite his tongue until it bled, he'd do it. There was no way their relationship was falling at the first hurdle.

"What else?"

She shrugged and squeezed his hand affectionately.

"Knowing you've got my back on this is all I need."

* * *

Probably for the first time in his life House had a five year old snoring in his ear. Astonishingly he wasn't quite as alarmed as he imagined he'd be. After flying in from London the night previously, Rachel, Cuddy and he had spent most of the morning and some of the afternoon wandering around Paris and absorbing the atmosphere, which in his girlfriend's case mostly consisted of ogling the shop windows of the boutiques they passed. As much as he'd moaned about having to stop every two minutes when she leered at eye-wateringly expensive designer dresses, truthfully he hadn't minded at all. Not only had it given him and Rachel the chance to rest, but also he got to watch the numerous other men doing a double take as they caught sight of her, on occasion giving him a congratulatory nod as they walked by. Thoroughly pleased with himself, he'd look down to check on the little girl holding his hand, and she'd beam right back at him. Evidently she was enjoying the place too, and all in all they were having a great time.

And then a mini disaster had struck. Not looking where she was going on their way back to the hotel, Rachel had caught her foot on a curb and tripped, falling her full length and consequently scuffing her knee. Initially the shock had kept her from crying, but then she'd turned to sit up and saw the line of blood trickle down her leg. Big, wet tears had instantly formed in her eyes, soon turning into sobs when it hit her that she was hurt in unfamiliar surroundings.

Reacting swiftly Cuddy had gone to pick her up, but Rachel had resisted, shaking her head violently as she sobbed House's name and held her arms out towards him. Baffled that she didn't want her Mom, House had complied, awkwardly balancing her against his hip with his cane-free hand and sruggled the few hundred yards back to the place they were staying. In the elevator up to their suite he'd tried to put her down as the extra weight had begun to make his thigh ache more than usual, but she'd clung to his shirt and protested as a concerned Cuddy looked on. A few minutes later he'd sunk onto the sofa in their room, allowing her to sit on his lap, whilst her Mother had cleaned up her leg and found the band aids she'd packed in her luggage. Ten minutes after that the five year old was fast asleep, her head lolling into the crook of his neck, as she made a noise that didn't seem possible for a five year old. Nudging her to check she'd gone off soundly, tentatively he'd stood up and laid her down on the sofa, wiping a wisp of hair from her face, before joining Cuddy out on the balcony where she'd gone to get some fresh air.

Hearing his footsteps, she held out her hands behind her and pulled his arms around her body, revelling in the way he seemed to encompass her. Arching her neck backwards to smile at him, delicately he pecked the top of her head and rested his chin there, peaking down over the top of her at the bustle of the street beneath them. Somehow showing their affection for one another was easier these days, his need to constantly undermine her as his boss all but eliminated. Yes, he teased her still, and they'd raised their voices to one another a few times since they'd gotten back together, but a calmness had settled over them in the last few weeks, something that was borne out of the acceptance that they were absolutely the right thing for each other. Now and again he felt the urge to pinch himself to check if he was dreaming it: at long last they'd found themselves where they needed to be after over two decades of dancing around one another.

"Tu as changé ma vie le jour oû je t'ai rencontré," he whispered effortlessly, drawing a puzzled frown from his girlfriend.

"My French is really rusty. You're going to have to translate."

"I just said your ass looks nice in that dress."

"My French is bad, but not that bad," she snorted, reaching behind him and swatting his backside. "I guess I'll have to torture it out of you."

"I'll never talk!"

"I still have ways of making you tell the truth, you know."

"I had no idea you'd packed the handcuffs," he cracked back, amused by the consternation on her face as she turned to scowl at him. "Jeez! That could have been awkward if they'd gone through your case at airport security!"

"You can joke all you want, House, but I will get it out of you after Rachel's gone to bed."

"And now I'm going to have to think about Taub naked for the rest of the day to stop me from getting a boner."

Rolling her eyes at the crude comment, Cuddy turned her attention back to the scene that surrounded them. The beautiful architecture, the continental buzz on the street beneath them, along with the smell of fresh bread from the boulangerie just up the street, were all even more perfect than what she'd imagined.

"I can't believe I'm actually here," she said honestly, surveying a young couple unabashedly kissing each other passionately in the café window across the street. "I thought maybe I'd make it here someday, but it doesn't seem real… It's beautiful."

"I'm a Paris virgin too… Coming here on your own is kind of pathetic."

"You could have brought Stacy."

"My boss wouldn't give me time off."

"You know that's not true." Internally he acknowledged it wasn't. He'd been too fixated on his job to even contemplate taking any real time off, or indeed to take the time to focus on his ex, much to the detriment of their relationship. It was little wonder her excuse for ending it had been that she was lonely with him.

"I'm glad you were the one who popped my cherry," he admitted. He'd loved Stacy, to the point that his World seemed to crumble the first and the second time she'd walked away, but if she hadn't he wouldn't be here with Cuddy right now. It was as simple as that. There was something so right about the relationship he was in now. Like the years of longing, pretending not to care and hurting each other had eventually culminated into something inevitable. Something that made all the heartache seem worthwhile.

Spinning around to face him, she traced a finger along his jawline and kissed him, her tongue soon finding his in long, relaxed embrace. Eventually she pulled away and smiled shyly at him.

"What was that for?" he inquired quizzically, bemusement sparkling in his blue eyes.

"I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you."

Just as his mouth opened to complain, Rachel whimpering in her sleep turned their attentions behind them. Quickly it died down and she seemed to settle down again.

"She's probably chasing rabbits," he cracked.

"She's not a dog, House!"

Regarding the sleeping form on the sofa again, he smiled fondly. In the time it had taken Cuddy to work her notice and for them to make the necessary arrangements to get away, he'd enjoyed hanging out with her too. Whilst they waited for her Mom to come back from the hospital after she finished school, they'd watch cartoons and eat more cookies than they were strictly supposed to, smirking conspiratorally at each other when Cuddy asked where they'd all gone.

"I know," he said softly. "Rachel and I are cool… She's the Bonnie to my Clyde when Mommy's too uptight to go and rob banks."

Meditatively she smiled at him, the mirth not quite reaching her eyes and immediately he knew something wasn't quite right.

"What?" Still she hesitated. "_What?_" he repeated.

"If I tell you something do you promise not to freak out."

Instantly his jaw practically hit the floor.

"Are you pregnant?" he croaked.

Running a hand over her cheek, Cuddy sighed loudly.

"No, I'm not pregnant."

"Then what?" he asked impatiently. He was already starting to freak out. What if she'd got sick just as they'd started their lives together? His existence had been full of horrific ironies like that.

"Rachel told me she loved you yesterday." She regarded him timidly. Almost if she feared she'd said something she shouldn't have.

"I hope you told her I prefer my women a little older," he retorted jovially, relief filtering through him. In comparison with what his natural pessimism had envisaged, this almost seemed trivial. Almost. Seeing his girlfriend scrutinize him closely, he adjusted his expression accordingly.

"This is big, House… This means that if anything goes wrong it's not just either of us that would get hurt. She'd old enough now to remember what happens between us for the rest of her life." Nervously she gulped and continued to watch him, his façade giving little away. "Things got serious pretty fast, huh?"

"Then I guess we better not screw it up this time."

"I need to know you're in this for the long haul. That you're committed to both of us."

"Do you want me to propose?" he queried uneasily. Yes they'd known each other forever, and this was their second try at making it work, but they'd only been back together for a little over a month. Pushing for such a swift engagement seemed rushed.

"No, that's not what I meant."

"But you do want to get married at some point. I know you do."

"If it feels right for both of us then yes… I don't want you to ask me because you feel you have to. I want you to ask if it feels right. Whenever that is." For a second she paused to watch him process what she was saying. Stonily he stared right back at her. "What I need from you now is to know that you're not going to back away from either of us if things get bad, literally or emotionally."

Irritably his fingers glided through his hair.

"We've been over this. Several times… You still don't trust me."

"I trusted you enough to give up my job and get on a plane!" Cuddy replied heatedly, instantly regretting raising her voice. Arguing was the last thing she wanted to do right now, but she had to be honest with him about her insecurities. There were, however, better ways of getting her point across. "I worry, especially about how all of this is affecting Rachel… I guess I overthink things, but that's not something that's going to change overnight… In the meantime I'm going to need reassuring at regular intervals."

Straight away House's expression softened.

"I'm not going anywhere… Literally or emotionally." The palms of his hands sought out the tops of her arms and delicately smoothed over the skin there. "I'll keep on telling you that as long as you need me to… In return feel free to constantly tell me how awesome and well hung I am."

"You want me to lie?" she countered innocently.

Pretending to be dismayed, his bottom lip poked out childishly.

"You should rethink being nasty to me. I have a history of throwing myself off hotel balconies." Peeking over the side, he examined the drop to the ground. "Something tells me it wouldn't go so well this time."

Playfully she grabbed his shirt and pulled him towards her, poising her mouth near his ear, as her breath made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"You don't get away from me that easily."

* * *

There was a definite chill in the evening air. The kind that creeps up on you when Autumn starts to give way to Winter. That House was sat outside on the grass wearing nothing aside from his typical uniform of a t-shirt and jeans worried Cuddy, as did the fact he'd been glued to the same spot for the best part of an hour. In normal circumstances she might have put it down to him getting lost in his thoughts and needing his own space. That was hardly uncommon. They'd lived together for years now, and at certain times they'd both retreat into their own shells, but that wasn't a problem. Years of solitude had shaped them that way, and it was something they'd come to understand and respect. However today wasn't just any day, and an earlier incident had compounded that. As much as a part of her willed herself to leave him be, she couldn't. Not today.

Grabbing his jacket and pulling on her own, she wandered into the garden and wrapped the coat around his shoulders, before sitting down next to him.

"When we were kids my Mom told Julia and me that if we sat on the ground we'd get haemorrhoids… The irony is she's never sat on the ground, and now she has haemorrhoids. That's all she talks about on the phone these days."

Turning to look at him, she saw a ghost of a smile turn the corners of his mouth upwards. Nowadays there were more lines on his face and his hair and beard were entirely grey, but he was the same man she'd known since college. Perhaps a little mellower and slightly less impulsive, nevertheless he was still House.

"Arlene's been a pain in the ass to everybody since birth. It's about time she knew how everyone who comes into contact with her feels."

Laughing, Cuddy nudged closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder, her arm hooking under his as they both examined their garden in the remaining daylight. After they'd returned from Europe their first priority had been to find work. Three months had given them both time to re-evaluate what they wanted and what they could realistically expect. House working for somebody else in a job that required daily interaction with patients just didn't seem practical without Cuddy protecting him from the lawsuits that came about as a result of his poor bedside manner, therefore he'd resolved to look for a position in research.

Time away had also allowed her to re-evaluate what she wanted. Ever since they'd worked together he'd nagged her about not being a 'proper doctor', and the truth was no longer being hands-on had bothered her. When she'd put feelers out for vacancies numerous Deanships and administrator jobs had been offered to her. Even PPTH had tried to coax her back with a much inflated salary, but she'd turned them all down in favour of running the fertility and endocrinology clinic at Penn University, a post which she'd instantly loved and had thrown herself into. Her paycheck was lighter than it might have been, but finally she felt like she was doing more than shuffling pieces of paper from one side of her desk to the other and constantly dealing with the bureaucratic side of medicine. Every morning she walked into her office and looked at the wall of thank you cards and photographs parents sent her of the babies she'd helped to bring into the World, and she knew she'd finally ended up where she was most needed, her own struggles with her fertility making her sympathetic to the woes of each and every person who walked through her door.

By a stroke of luck, a few weeks after they'd bought their home in Philadelphia and Cuddy had started working at the University, a position had become available in the Center for Infectious Diseases. House had breezed through the interview and within two years he was heading up a clinical trial program to find a cheap and effective vaccine for HIV. Within five years he'd been successful, soliciting a joint nomination for the Nobel Prize for medicine for him and his team that Cuddy only became aware of when she'd found a letter in their home office with Swedish post marks. He didn't win, missing out to a British researcher who'd massively improved survival rates in cancer patients by revolutionising radiotherapy, but they'd both been hugely proud of his recognition, even if she'd been more vocal about it.

Despite their work-related triumphs over the last eight years since they'd reunited, they were still sat on the grass at 6.45 on a Saturday evening, a cool breeze giving them both goose bumps.

"I know you're not happy," Cuddy ventured cautiously, shattering the quiet that had acted like the calm before the inevitable storm. Looking up she saw his jaw flex tensely.

"Me not being happy is an understatement."

"Rachel's growing up, House… This was bound to happen. She's testing her boundaries and trying to figure out who she is."

"So you're happy with someone in the grade above our fourteen year old daughter sticking his tongue down her throat on a street corner?" he countered furiously.

Sensing he needed a minute to calm down, Cuddy watched him close his eyes, knowing he was trying to shake away the mental image. By chance earlier that day he'd spotted her playing tonsil hockey with a slightly older boy as he'd driven back from the store. Seething, he'd ushered Rachel into the car and brought her back to the house, where all Hell had broken loose. When Cuddy had stumbled into the hall from the kitchen after hearing raised voices, both of them were shouting and flinging their arms irately, until finally House told Rachel she was grounded indefinitely and she'd angrily stormed to her room. Trying to garner what had happened from him had been impossible, he'd been too livid to string a coherent sentence together, so as calmly as possible she'd entered her daughter's room and they'd talked.

"I'm not especially happy," she admitted. "But I do trust her… She's smart, House. She knows not to do anything stupid until she's emotionally ready for it, which she's told me won't be for a long time yet."

"And you think a horny teenage boy is going to care about when she's emotionally ready for…?" Disgusted, he let the sentence hang in the air unfinished. The thought alone of anybody touching the child he'd seen grow up and had grown to love horrified him.

Cuddy shrugged.

"I trust her enough to pick a boyfriend, who wouldn't force her into anything she doesn't want. Aside from you, she's easily the best judge of character I know." Unconvinced, he snorted, compelling her to justify the observation. "Maybe all those years of you encouraging her to size up the other people in restaurants based on what they were wearing played a part… How many other fourteen year olds do you know who can accurately guess someone's profession based on what shoes they're wearing?"

In response House shoved his tongue firmly into his cheek, suppressing a chuckle. Of all the things he'd taught her that was one of the things he was most proud of. Knowledge really was power, especially when it gave an insight into who and what other people were.

"So what do we do?"

Deviously she grinned back at him.

"I guess we could invite this boy over for dinner and put the fear of God into him… If he really likes her he'll put up with her weird parents, if not he'll run for the hills."

"Ok," he nodded, somewhat comforted by the proposal.

Grasping her left hand, he pulled it onto his lap and span the diamond solitaire ring around on her finger, his mind casting back to the night he'd proposed. He'd been working through his lunch when Thomas Bell, his Mom's second husband, had called to tell him she'd died during the night from a massive heart attack. Murmuring to one of his technicians what had happened he'd walked out, gotten into his car and driven around for hours, effectively trying to outrun the awful news he'd just been told. Eventually going back home in the early hours of the morning, he'd found an angry and distraught Cuddy waiting for him in the darkened living room, her eyes red from worried tears after one of his colleagues told her what had happened when House hadn't come back at the usual time, and his cell continuously went to voicemail. Standing there with tears in his own eyes, he realised the whole thing had taught him something: the further he ran away, the more he knew he had to be with her.

Thoroughly confused, she'd looked on as he'd awkwardly lowered himself onto one knee in front of her and asked her to marry him. Initially shocked mute, eventually she'd nodded her head in agreement and said yes. A few months after that they were married in a quiet ceremony, and within a year formal notification that he'd legally adopted Rachel had arrived through the post. For the first time in his life everything he'd ever wanted had fallen into place. Four and a half years later he continued to wait for the other shoe to drop.

"Rachel told me that I embarrassed her… That I was old enough to be her Granddad not her Dad, and that I was too ancient to understand her."

"I know," Cuddy replied carefully, well aware that this was one major part of the reason he'd taken it all so badly. "She told me… It took her all of ten seconds to regret saying it. She'll be sat in her bedroom right now beating herself up about it."

"That doesn't make any of what she said less true… It's bad enough that when we go out together people think you've got a sugar Daddy… I am old enough to be her Grandfather."

"And after all these years of being a family, you really think we care how old you are?"

Dejectedly, House sighed.

"I'm old, grey and gimpy."

"It works for me," she smirked, elbowing him playfully before addressing him more seriously. "There's nothing about our marriage that disappoints me, House. We're a million miles away from the mess we made the first time we tried a relationship, not least of all because we know how to have a conversation now." Biting her lip, she regarded him coyly. "The sex is still incredible too. I've got nothing to moan about."

Shrewdly he glanced at his wife through the corner of his eye, realising she was throwing the ball up in the air for him to hit on purpose.

"Oh you've got plenty to moan about, Partypants."

"You ever call me that in front of our daughter…"

"And you'll what?" he challenged, his eyebrows raising in amusement.

She opened her mouth to say something, but found herself closing it again.

"I'll think of something."

Laughing out loud at her threat, he slung his arm over her shoulder and pecked her on the forehead affectionately, his thoughts suddenly turning elsewhere.

"We were all meant to be going out for Wilson's birthday tonight." He glanced down at his watch, and saw they'd missed their dinner reservation at a local restaurant. Somehow this had become a yearly tradition for them as a family, something much less maudlin than an annual trip to the cemetery in Jersey.

"There's nothing stopping you from going to the bar and raising a glass of scotch for him," Cuddy proposed, knowing how important it was to him to honour the day properly. "I'll stay and tend to the prisoner."

"You wouldn't mind?" She shook her head in confirmation. "Then I'll find a way of making it up to you… One that involves me crawling into bed next to when I get back, and going down on you until you beg me to stop."

Smugly, he watched her roll her eyes at him.

"My money's on you coming back and falling asleep on the sofa." He didn't drink anywhere near as much as he used to, she'd asked him not to over concerns about his health and he'd complied, but he still had form as far as this was concerned.

"You want to turn this into a bet?" House inquired, somewhat surprised.

"There's no point." Limberly she got to her feet and held a hand out to help him get up, which he duly took, stiffness and a twinge in his leg making the movement ungainly. "No matter what happens I still win."

More than slightly in awe, he smiled broadly at her. She'd aged a little in the years they'd been together. He knew she was self-conscious about the more pronounced lines around her eyes, but not even time was going to stop her being beautiful to him. Some people fell out of love more and more the longer they stayed with their partner, but for him the opposite had been true.

"God, I love you!"

"I should hope so!" she retorted, pecking him on the lips and spinning him back around towards the house, before patting him on the ass. "The quicker you go, the quicker you can come back and pass out on our living room furniture."

Happily he left her in the kitchen and walked through to the hall, slotting his arms into his jacket and about to grab his cane when a meek voice called out behind him.

"Dad, can we talk?" Almost laughably her head was popping out of her bedroom door like meerkat investigating outside of its burrow. Despite his mood being a hell of a lot better, he decided he wasn't going to let her off too easily and scowled at her.

"Haven't you said enough today?"

Slowly she wandered down the corridor and stopped a couple of feet away from him, her head hanging down sheepishly to watch her toes curl as they gripped the wooden floor. As a teenager she'd flourished from the gawky kid with braces to something else altogether. Now tall and growing more and more elegant by the day it wasn't hard for House to see why boys had started to show an interest in her. It was already clear she was going to grew up with a beauty to rival her Mother's, which did little to ease his nerves about what the future held for her. Being one, he knew men could be assholes.

"I wanted to apologise." Pensively she craned her neck up again and looked her Father in the eye. "I didn't mean what I said. I just lost my temper… I don't like upsetting you or Mom. I'm sorry."

"And I don't like finding out you have a boyfriend by seeing you hang out with him on street corners."

Obviously embarrassed, he watched the whole of her face turn bright red.

"Max is nice, Dad," she retorted softly. "He's not some brain-dead jock. I really like him… You and Mom should meet him."

Not responding straight away, House saw her regard him expectantly, her hands fidgeting nervously by her sides.

"We'll see."

"So we're ok?" Rachel pressed, taking a step forward.

"I guess we are." His frown turned into a smile and she followed suit, closing the gap between them and enveloping him in a hug that was in danger of cutting off his air supply. Wrapping his own arms around her, even after all these years it still surprised him that she was so openly affectionate with both of them. It was the antithesis to how he'd been during his childhood and much of his adult life, but then that was perhaps a product of his 'difficult' upbringing as much as his innate personality. Maybe, in spite of the challenges they'd both faced when they were kids, he and Cuddy had actually turned out to be decent parents. "Part of me is always going to see you as the baby that spewed on me and looked like E.T. the first time I held you."

"That was before you and Mom got together." She knew everything about their past: Michigan, her Mom's part in the aftermath of the infarction, the adoption, the break up, Wilson's death bringing them back together and so on. Amazingly she'd taken it all in her stride, biting back at the kids in school who'd teased her about not living with her biological parents by explaining that at least she was sure she was wanted.

"You still spewed on me," he cracked, kissing her on the forehead and pulling away when he saw his wife stood in the doorway, a self-satisfied smirk gracing her face.

"You friends again?"

"Yup," he nodded.

"Dad told me I looked like E.T. when I was a baby again."

Amused, Cuddy folded her arms across herself and raised an eyebrow.

"That's kind of hypocritical coming from him… We've all seen the baby photos Thomas found amongst your Nana's things… You were an ugly baby, House."

Feigning being hurt, he gasped.

"The words you were looking for were unconventionally handsome."

Cuddy shook her head and laughed.

"I meant ugly."

Looking from one face to the other, he sighed and threw his hands in the air in despair.

"Stop ganging up on me and get your shoes on!"

"I thought I was grounded?" the teenager quizzed.

"You still are," he clarified, ruffling her hair to intentionally irritate her. "But tonight I'm busting you out... We're going to the diner for dinner. I might even pay." Catching Cuddy eyeing him sceptically, he changed tack. "Well probably not, but it's the thought that counts, right?"

Seemingly happy enough with the arrangement, Rachel skipped back to her bedroom to find a pair of sneakers, as Cuddy walked towards her husband and pulled his hands onto her hips.

"That was a nice thing to do."

"Truth is I don't like drinking on my own these days."

"Uh-uh," she contradicted. "Truth is I married a nice guy. He just doesn't like everybody knowing that."

Finding himself smiling at the compliment, he tilted his head down and kissed her tenderly, enjoying the flirty way her lips grazed his; a non-verbal promise that there was more to come whenever they found themselves in more private surroundings. Eventually breaking away, he grinned brazenly at her.

"That thing I said was happening when I got back?" She nodded and licked her lips. "It's still happening."

"Glad to hear it."

They were about to embrace again when a deliberate cough drew them apart. Behind them Rachel was stood with her hands on her hips looking decidedly unimpressed.

"So I get grounded for kissing someone in a public place, and yet you two do it constantly… Double-standards much?"

"Well if you want to ground us too, I'll make sure your Mom doesn't leave our room," House countered wryly, finding it hilarious when their daughter's features contorted in disgust.

After handing her Dad his cane, she turned both her parents around towards the front door and pushed them out, doing her best to forget his comment as she pulled it closed behind her.

"It'll be a miracle if I don't end up in therapy!"


End file.
